


The Price For Freedom

by Hoglorfen (LadyWhin)



Series: In The Glow Of The Mountain [8]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Play, Angst, BDSM, Biting, Date Rape, F/M, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Imprisonment, M/M, Manipulation, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Mordor, Multi, Nightmares, Orc Culture, Orgy, Other, Pain, Parasites, Past Sexual Assault, Psychological Torture, Revenge Sex, Second Age, Sex Slave, Spanking, Swearing, Tentacle Rape, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 90,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWhin/pseuds/Hoglorfen
Summary: There is no peace to be had in the Black Land. When all is said and done, is the salvation of one worth the price of many?





	1. Triggers

**Author's Note:**

> IGM is back after a much needed vacation! We'll jump right into the fray with a graphic chapter, in fact this entire part of the tale will be graphic in more ways than one. I once challenged myself to fit every possible porn/hentai trope into this story without breaking the storyline, and this part will be something of an attempt to tick some boxes off that list. You'll also be acquainted with some characters that have only been mentioned in passing before, including one that I think many readers have been curious about... But enough of my rambling - time for ACTION! Enjoy!

The Lieutenant's quarters in Thaurband fortress looked much the same as it had the last time Graznikh entered it. The once dug-out fireplace had been cleaned and all the furniture that he and Záhovar had ruined when they searched it for clues to Dachman's whereabouts had been repaired or replaced. The quartermasters and snaga here were loyal to the fortress itself, not the one holding it; this assured that they would keep it in perfect condition even when there was no Lieutenant governing it. And since Záhovar had killed the previous Lieutenant and decided to take up temporary residence here before returning to Lugburz, it meant that he, Praktash and Sulmurz had free range of the place.  
”I could learn to like this,” Praktash purred as he sank down into one of the soft reclining chairs in the lounge.  
”Couldn't agree more,” Sulmurz mumbled. He was standing by the doorway to the master's bedroom, looking at something within with open lechery. Graznikh walked up to him and soon they shared identical slavering leers. The bed chamber itself was not very impressive, but in the far wall there was an alcove bed with a domed ceiling, cushioned walls and a heavy purple curtain with gold details in front that blocked out all light when down. Záhovar had been the one to search that particular room so Graznikh had not noticed it before. Now it was pulled aside, revealing a thick mattress laden with pillows and soft, quilted blankets; the cushioned walls sported several polished rings of heavy-duty steel where something, or rather some _one,_ could be tied. It was the most luxurious fucknest the Orcs had ever seen.  
”I'm gon' try that bed,” Sulmurz purred. ”I'm gon' try the shit outta it!”  
”Who'd even build something like that?” Graznikh breathed. ”Dachman did _something_ right in the end, and he wasn't even here!”  
”That good, huh?” Praktash asked from the lounge.  
”Better,” Graznikh purred. ”I can't believe she had us crowd the guest quarters when we coulda snuggled up in _this!_ Ya gotta come look at this, buddy!”  
Praktash chuckled as he got up. The moment he reached the doorway however, the smile died on his lips. ”...Oh.”  
Graznikh arched an eyebrow. ”What? Don't like it?”  
”Sure,” Praktash replied with an anxious scowl. ”It's... great.” Graznikh looked after him with a frown as he returned to the lounge. After telling Sulmurz to keep his distance for a while, he walked up to him and rested his elbows on the backrest of the chair.  
”What's wrong buddy?” he whispered.  
Praktash snorted quietly. ”That bed looks just like the ones they have in Blog Shakâmb.”  
”Right... Guess I can see why that might be a problem.”  
”I won't be able to sleep in there,” Praktash whispered. ”Or do anythin' else for that matter. Ever.”  
”We won't stay here forever. But...”  
Praktash looked up as Graznikh hesitated. ”But what?”  
Graznikh gave him a meek grin. ”Could we at least put in one o' those wall mattresses with shackles back in Lugburz? Just the one?”  
The Uruk grinned a little. ”Sure, as long as the bed doesn't look like _that_ I'm fine with it.” He laughed at Graznikh's deep purr and dreamy look. ”An' you're callin' _me_ a horny bastard! Skai, sometimes you're worse than me an' 'Zat put together!”  
”Well I've got some bloody long time to make up for!” Graznikh retorted. ”All those nights of wankin' like crazy, unable to be near her or feel all the stuff I used to... T'was bloody hard, I tell ya!”  
”I can imagine,” Praktash replied with a suggestive glance towards his buddy's crotch.  
”Feeling better now?”  
”Mmm-hm.” He purred as Graznikh massaged his shoulders. ”Remember what we talked about on the way here?”  
”Aye... I'll get to it once she's back.”  
”You two play nice now! I don't need more sour faces an' grumpy jabs.”  
”Says the one who's been all o' that'n more on the way back. Glad you got over it.”  
”Yeah... It's amazin' what a few words can do when said the right way. Makes ya escape the shittiness faster than any drug.”  
”Don't forget a good, hard suck,” Graznikh added, making Praktash laugh and Sulmurz groan. Then he frowned. ”Speaking o' drugs... I haven't seen ya use 'em for a while now. You used to be dunked more often than not. Why's that?”  
Praktash smiled. ”It's 'cause I don't need 'em. Life's good; I've nothin' to run from.”  
”I thought that stuff hooked yer brains up,” Sulmurz said. ”Made it so ya couldn't stop after a while.”  
”Nar, drugs don't do that. It's the cage that does.”  
”What cage?”  
”Life. If you've got a shitty life with plenty of stuff to run from but you can't, or if y' _think_ you can't, you turn to other means of escape. Some folks use booze, some use drugs, some turn to gamblin', others disappear inside their heads. There's a reason why all four are so common in Lugburz; lotsa stuff to run from here, an' the bars of this cage can't exactly be broken.”  
”Now, that's not right,” Sulmurz protested. ”There's a lot o' tarks usin' shit like that, an' they've got it all made for 'em.”  
”There're a lot of Top Ones usin' too,” Praktash snickered. ”Why d'ya think Záhovar's so hooked on ghâshpau for? Havin' lotsa stuff doesn't mean you don't have shit to run from.”  
”I bet many of them's got yokes heavier than any labour snaga down on the plain,” Graznikh added with a tug on his collar.  
”Well, I'm stayin' away from it,” Sulmurz proclaimed, ”at least as long as _that one'_ s around.” The warm, sultry look that Praktash gave him made him shudder with disgust.  
  


After making sure that the runners who would carry her letters to Lugburz would keep ample speed on the road, Záhovar returned to the keep.  
”The reason why they chose to built the Quartermaster's office in the other end of town will forever elude me,” she commented as she entered the lounge. ”How come they did not simply tear down a few mills to make space near the castle wall? Useless...”  
”Take the place over an' run it yourself if you think y'can do it better,” Praktash chirped.  
”Perhaps I will, at that. With Dachman's demise there is a power vacuum here that needs filling.” She nodded to Sulmurz, who handed her a cup.  
”An' the hole's just about your size...”  
”Poor, hard-working master,” Graznikh purred jokingly. ”Wann'a backrub?”  
”No.” Graznikh's face fell as Záhovar briefly smirked at him. She nodded to Praktash and Sulmurz. ”You two. Out. Now.”  
Praktash got up with a big leer; Sulmurz took a little longer, throwing the Uruk a nervous glance before heading out the door. Záhovar watched them leave, then glanced at Graznikh. ”Lock the door.”  
Graznikh's eyes narrowed. ”What's this about?”  
”I seem to recall you telling me at some point that you did not enjoy 'group sports'. Have I misunderstood?”  
A sly leer spread across his face as he headed towards the door. As long as it had been since the last time they played in any way, he barely dared to hope that things were going in that direction at long last. A stolen look at her face told him nothing. She did not smell horny either, but perhaps that little detail could be changed. He decided to take his chances.  
  
”Well then...” Praktash said when the door slammed shut. ”Guess we have some time to kill.” He looked down at Sulmurz, who flinched a little. ”Wanna go for a drink?”  
Sulmurz gave him a suspicious look. ”With _you?_ ”  
Praktash rolled his eyes. ”Nar, with 'Zat's Olog mum. Who else?”  
”Don't think so. I've had enough o' your groping.”  
”Oh, c'mon! I rub up against ya _once-_ ”  
”Five times!”  
”-Five times, an' now I'm your worst enemy?”  
”That's five times too many!”  
”I did fix your dick.”  
”After she told ya to!”  
”I was just messin' with ya! I was goin' to fix it anyway.”  
”Yeah right... And there's that shit ya pulled in the inn before-”  
”It was a _joke!_ ” Praktash exclaimed. ”Look, if you don't want to, just say 'nar'! You don't have to drag up every bad move I've ever done.” He snorted a little. ”If I was as uptight as you I'd be shittin' through my nose.”  
Sulmurz shook his head with a disgusted scowl and began to walk away. Praktash ran up to him and walked beside him down the hallway.  
”Look, I didn't... Just stop an' hear me out a little. Please?”  
After a moment's hesitation, Sulmurz stopped. ”'Please'? Are you bloody serious?!” he half hissed, half growled. ”Ya treat me like an opa-snaga the whole trip, and when that didn't work ya think ya can sweet-talk me into bendin' over for ya? Just fuck _off_!”  
”I'm not tryin' to bend ya over.”  
Sulmurz gave him an incredulous look. ”Then what the fuck was-”  
”Yeah, I know I did all that shit! But I won't, not anymore.” He could not resist adding; ”unless you want me to. But that's your call, really.”  
”And what makes ya think I'd believe that?”  
”Look; I'm bloody parched. We can go on bickerin' if you want, but then we'll do it over a drink. Whaddya say?”  
Sulmurz hesitated. ”Just chat?”  
”And drink,” Praktash added with a little smile. ”Nothin' else.”  
”...Fine. I can't believe I'm doing this... Piss off!!” he snarled as praktash tried to put an arm around his shoulders. The Uruk only chuckled and raised his hands defensively.  
  
The moment the door was closed and locked, Graznikh turned his back on it. Záhovar's face was the same cool mask as she always wore, but her scent was a turmoil of guarded confusion that grew stronger as he removed his armour and clothes and carelessly tossed them aside. Then he met her eyes with calm confidence.  
”I know I've hurt ya,” he murmured. ”I know I've damaged things, maybe even beyond repair. But won'tcha let me try to fix some? You never gave up on me. You gave me back myself, despite all the shit I threw at ya. I owe ya my life'n more.” As he spoke, he slowly came closer until they were almost touching. ”Akûlhân,” he whispered in her face. ”Âmbalai... can I?”  
Záhovar did not reply with words but simply held out her arms instead. Graznikh untied her sash and pulled the outer robe off her shoulders. She inhaled slightly as calloused fingertips caressed her breasts through the soft fabric before untying the tunic. Soon her trousers fell as well, pooling on the floor around her feet. Graznikh took a step back to admire her. Her eyes wandered as well, and he thought he caught a glimpse of approval. Slowly she backed away and crawled into bed, arching her back and giving him a teasing glance over her shoulder as she did so. But as Graznikh was about to follow her, she held up a hand to stop him.  
”Dance.”  
He gave her an incredulous glance. ”Say what?”  
She smiled wickedly and motioned gracefully towards the open floor. Graznikh felt a little stupid. _How the fuck's this supposed to be good? I don't know how to bloody dance!_ Then his eyes narrowed and he had an idea. He returned her smile and sunk into a battle stance as if he was about to attack someone, claws ready. Then he pretended to do so but moved slower than he usually would. He added a few moves that would have been pointless in a real fight but that showed off his flexibility and strength.  He stretched and flexed, clawed and spun, licked his fingers and ran them down his hard abdomen and up his thighs while growling, purring and snapping his fangs at her. Záhovar obviously enjoyed his little display; she fingered herself lazily while watching him with half-closed eyes. Graznikh had accumulated quite a number of new scars during the long journey, but Praktash's salves had kept them from growing stiff. All the travelling and fighting and the krîtar's food had put him in the best shape he had been in for years, and now he intended to make the most of that.  
_That's right,_ he thought as he eyed her hungrily. _This is all yours, just say the word! You can't even_ begin _to imagine the things I'm gonna do to ya. I'll make you cry, you little bitch, you're gonna fear me and love me afore this is over!_  
  
  
”So why the sudden change?” Sulmurz asked suspiciously after he and Praktash had found themselves a rickety table in the nearest alehouse. Being Lug-snaga, they had pulled rank and bullied themselves to a room of their own so that they could speak somewhat openly. Sulmurz was not comfortable with being alone with the rapist Uruk, but he had not dared to speak against him and start a fight out in the open, where no one would come to his aid and his humiliation would no doubt be public. After a few mugs of strong Thaurband rum, he was pleasantly drunk and began to relax a little.  
”First'n foremost; I didn't think you'd last,” Praktash told him. ”I don't bother with every snaga I meet, 'specially if I know they're gonna disappear off the map soon. I thought Záhovar was just playin' with ya 'cause Graznikh was outta order, I didn't think she was serious about keepin' ya.”  
”Bo-fucking-hoo,” Sulmurz mumbled into his mug. He gave Praktash a sullen look as the Uruk began to snicker.  
”Yeah, I was wrong! Poor me. But you're still here, an' you're one of us now. I don't wanna spend the rest of our nights bickerin', it's no fun for anyone.”  
”Did Záhovar put ya up to this?”  
”Nar. Is it so hard to believe that I can be nice for a change?”  
”...Yes. Yes it is.”  
”Wonderful,” Praktash muttered into his mug. ”Caught by my own reputation.”  
”'S not just reputation, ya know.”  
”Nar, but... Wait, you've heard of me?” Sulmurz groaned at the Uruk's starry-eyed look. ”I'm _famous!_ Tell me everythin'!”  
Sulmurz shrugged. ”Kraash was in Lugburz before he came to Morigost. He heard some shit.”  
”Oho?” Praktash grinned. ”Like what?”  
”Like...” Sulmurz let out an exasperated sigh. ”Do we have to talk about this?”  
”Alright, fine!” Praktash exclaimed. ”Let's talk about _girls_ then. You like 'em, don'tcha? So what's your type?”  
”She's up in the fortress,” Sulmurz grinned.  
”Mmm... Gettin' the fuck of her life by my buddy.”  
”So? I got merits o' my own.”  
”Mmm-hm,” Praktash purred. ”Got a hint back in the Crags. So where'd ya learn to fuck like that?”  
Sulmurz chuckled. ”Tark colony.”  
”Nar.”  
”Aye.”  
”But how? All the tarks I've met so far've been all uptight an' borin'! That pretty boy I took in the Crags kept beggin' me to stop right up 'til he spunked so hard he went cross-eyed.” Praktash collapsed against the table as Sulmurz pressed his hands to his ears and roared ”LA LA LA” at the top of his lungs until his voice grew hoarse and he started coughing instead.  
”Now that's just overreactin'!” Praktash exclaimed.  
”Well, izzit so bloody hard to _not_ talk about other folks' shitends for once?”  
”I _do_ like those ends,” Praktash murmured into his mug and snorted as Sulmurz lifted his fingers towards his ears again. ”Fine! Let's talk about Záhovar's shitend instead. Perfect compromise.”  
”...You're not serious.”  
”Yeah, I am.”  
”You _didn't_!”  
”Yeah, I did.”  
”But... That's just wrong! She's a _lady_!”  
”It's not if she likes it.”  
”But... But...” Sulmurz was not sure whether he should be repulsed or excited about the thought of her being willing to do something like that, and that indecisiveness in itself made him even more uncomfortable. ”Why would ya stick yer dick _there_ when there's plashnak right next to it?!”  
”Why not?” Praktash started chuckling as Sulmurz groaned. ”Come on Sully,” he purred. ”It's not so bad.”  
”I just... Don't... Wanna talk about it. Or think about it.”  
”But _why?_ You can't say you don't like it if you've never tried!”  
”And who says I haven't?” Sulmurz bit his tongue when he realised what he had said, but it was too late. Praktash slowly lowered his mug with a surprised look.  
”Really? Sulmurz, I didn't think you had it in ya! But apparently you did. Top or bottom?”  
”Look, I don't wanna talk about it,” Sulmurz snarled. ”You might like getting gang-banged by Uruks, but-”  
”Is that what happened?” Sulmurz let out a frustrated growl, but Praktash was not smiling anymore. If anything, he looked dead serious.  
”...Nar. Tarks.”  
”Tarks? Seriously?”  
”Look; I was a bloody cub'n there were _seven_ of 'em! What the fuck was I supposed to do?!” he roared. ”But you like that, don'tcha? Perfect fap material for ya right there!”  
”More like perfect mood-killer,” Praktash growled. ”Y'don't treat cubs like that, it's just plain wrong.”  
”Oho? Then let me kill it s'more.” Now that he had started talking, it was like a plug had been pulled. He could not stop. ”They dragged me into a barn'n went at it for I dunno how long. Kept callin' me their little piggy 'cause I squealed in pain! An' when they were done, they poured fuckin' wine up my arse'n left me bleeding in a pig sty!”  
Praktash let out an outraged snarl.  
”And you know what my sweet, carin' parents did?” Sulmurz continued. ”Think they were upset 'bout what happened? Sure was. They blamed it all on _me._ Said it was my own bloody fault for sneakin' out an' gettin' drunk when I shoulda stayed home like a good little snaga!!”  
  
He growled as he continued. ”The healer wouldn't touch me, filthy Orc that I was. I was spanked for disobeyin', despite my rear end already bein' black from the whipping those bastards gave me. They said I took it all too well, a proper good kid should be cryin'. Didn't matter that I howled'n screamed'n couldn't sleep 'cause o' the nightmares, nar; tears were the only thing that could prove my innocence. I tried'n tried, pushed 'til I thought my eyes'd pop, but no tears came! So I probably liked the whole thing, filthy Orc that I was.” Then he fell silent and deflated as though all air and strength left him all at once. He stared into his mug with bared fangs, shoulders shaking.  
” Skai...” Praktash breathed. He looked down with a contrite expression. ”I'm... If only I'd known...”  
”Aye, 'cause that's really something you go around telling people left an' right,” Sulmurz muttered into his mug. Praktash did not reply and Sulmurz kept stealing glances at him as they drank in silence. _Looks like that gave ya some stuff to think about. Hope it lasts._  
”Can't say I'm all that surprised, really,” Praktash said quietly after a while. ”At the tarks' reaction, I mean. Sounds like a very tarky thing to do.” He gave Sulmurz a soft, kind smile that immediately creeped the shit out of him. ”I'd never do anythin' like that to ya, I promise. I'd be _gentle.”  
_ ”Will ya fucking stop talkin' about it?! Ye're not gettin' any o' my...” He trailed off as he spotted Praktash's strained look. The Uruk bit his lip and looked like he was going to explode at any moment.  
”Yeah, my _arf_!” Sulmurz barked and grinned a little despite himself as Praktash lost it. ”You're bloody unbelievable.”  
”But it was so _perfect!_ ” Praktash giggled. ”Why did you run after that gal anyway?”  
”Thought she was someone else,” Sulmurz murmured.  
”Your ol' chief? Graturz or whatever her name was?”  
Sulmurz nodded and stared into his booze with a wistful expression.  
”Bet she liked your snaga arse...”  
”T'wasn't my _arse_ she was after,” Sulmurz sneered.  
”Nar? Don't tell me a chief rolled over for ya just like that.”  
”Of course she didn't! I was a _good_ bottom fuck.” His eyes widened as he spotted the Uruk's 'come-hither' leer. ”Nar, _not_ like that! Ya sick bastard!”  
”I didn't even _say_ anythin' this time!” Praktash exclaimed with a grin. ”You keep bringin' that up yourself! Why're you so bloody obsessed with the thought of you endin' up below me when you don't want any of it?!”  
”That's none o' yer fuckin' business.”  
”Y'know what I think? I think you _like_ me, deep down. You don't wanna admit it to yourself, but you do.”  
”Nobody likes ya!”  
”Now what's that supposed to mean?” Praktash asked with a grin. ”I've got plenty of guys who like me. Graz, 'Zat, Záhovar-”  
”Záhovar's not a guy.”  
”But she likes me! Anyway; Lîrnash, Golnauk, Ghraza-”  
”Ya gonna list the whole uzhâk? Golnauk's dead'n Ghrazagh hates ya.”  
”Nar, he doesn't.”  
”Then why does he always look at ya like ye're some rotten thing the wargs dragged in? Never seen him give ya the kind o' looks the krîtar'n our chief do.”  
”You just don't know Ghrazagh,” Praktash snickered. ”That _is_ his lovey-dovey look.”  
Sulmurz shook his head. ”Uruks...”  
”Snaaaga,” Praktash merrily retorted. ”What's your beef with Uruks, by the way? What've we ever done to you?”  
”Ye're not exactly the right guy to ask that!”  
”I get why you don't like _me_... Or nar, I don't, but anyway... what about the rest? They mess with ya too?”  
”Nar, but ye're all so bossy! Strut around like ya own the place...”  
”We do!”  
”Like fuck ya do! There's a whole bunch o' little folks here too what get trodded on whenever you Uruks barge in!”  
”I _meant_ that we strut around. Not the other thing, I don't care 'bout that. Too much work runnin' the place. I'll gladly leave that to the Top Ones.”  
”Like Záhovar?”  
” _Especially_ her.”  
Sulmurz grinned as he took another swig. ”Aye, imagine if she was callin' the shots! That'd be a sweet sight!”  
”She _is_ callin' the shots. On your sorry arse, from now on.”  
Sulmurz only snickered at that.

  
Once Záhovar had had enough of his 'dancing' and allowed him to enter the alcove, Graznikh approached on all fours with a predatory growl and crouched on the bed near the foot-end. Záhovar knelt and beckoned for him to come closer; Graznikh untied the curtain before obeying and merrily rolled over on his back, scooching in between her legs. There he licked and nibbled to his heart's content, rejoicing at every little sound of pleasure that he managed to draw from her. He felt her hand grab his dick and purred with delight; he could scarce remember the last time he did things in this particular position, and never with this particular woman. _Sulmurz musta trained ya better than I thought._ He squeezed her buttocks and purred deeply and she arched her back with a whimper. _Like that, do ya?_  
Suddenly Záhovar gasped and pulled away. She moved to mount him, but Graznikh pushed her off his cock with a smug leer. ”Not yet,” he purred.  
Záhovar gave him a murderous look. ”You will _fuck_ me; that is an order, Lug-snaga!”  
Graznikh chuckled darkly. ”Thinkin' to command me, are ya?” He leaned closer until their lips met in a tender kiss that slowly grew deeper. Then he withdrew unexpectedly with a mischievous chuckle. Before Záhovar had even had time to close her mouth, he had grabbed her arms and pulled her forward and before she knew it, she was lying flat face-down across his thighs. He quickly slid forward until he sat on the edge of the bed with her lying across his lap, unable to get up.  
”What are you doing?!” Záhovar exclaimed.  
”Shut up,” Graznikh replied with a creepy little smile.  
”You have no right to-!” Her shocked squeal echoed in the still air as his palm connected with her unprotected rear with a loud 'smack'.  
”I told ya to shut up,” Graznikh said sternly, as if lecturing a misbehaving child. ”You've got a choice in this, y'know.”  
”What?! I am- Ohh!!” Another slap, harder than the first, made her cry out.  
” I know what you are,” Graznikh said. ”No need to tell me.”  
”What the fuck are you doing?!” Záhovar bit her lip the moment after; she was _not_ going to give him the pleasure of hearing her scream again! This time she was ready. But his fingers found her most sensitive spot instead, kneading it gently and she cried out anyway.  
”That's no way to speak for a Top One,” Graznikh purred as he fingered her. ”Almost sounded like an Orc there for a moment!”  
”Why are you doing this?” Záhovar asked while trying to keep from whimpering as his fingers moved faster.  
”Don't like it?” he whispered.  
”No,” she hissed back. Graznikh felt the collar grow cold around his neck and his eyes narrowed. Her eyes widened in response. ”No, no- Aahh!!” The sounds of spanking echoed in the silence for a brief while.  
”Don't you dare,” he growled to the now sniveling Officer.  
”Stop,” Záhovar whimpered. ”Stop this...” His only reply was a dark, gleeful grin as he petted her stinging rump. _There it is,_ he thought as he drank in the delicious scent of her fear that he had longed so for. _All for me... Let's see how low you can sink, shall we?_  
The hand rubbed her left buttock. A moment later it hit her hard. The fingers slipped back between her legs, kneading and stroking until she was squirming. He kept alternating the ferocity and timing of his strikes. At times it was only a gentle pat, but whenever she tried to gather focus to strike back, he spanked her so hard that surely someone would hear her screams and come to her aid! But no help came. She would look over her shoulder, see the incoming blow and squeeze her eyes shut, only for him to halt at the last moment and reach for her most sensitive, making her cry out simply because she expected pain and received pleasure instead. He caught the little nub between two fingers and made her moan ecstatically, only to suddenly let it go and repeatedly spank her until she was pleading for him to stop.

Graznikh felt high. His mistress' usually pale, impassive face was flushed and contorted in fear, pain and need, her icy eyes red and brimming with tears, her scent a heady mixture of pure terror, anticipation and fierce arousal. She looked so helpless, so frightened, so confused and so _good._ This was like reliving that very first time he fucked and claimed her and Graznikh felt himself fall helplessly for her all over again.  
”Please,” she sobbed. ”Please...”  
”Whaddya want?” he whispered eagerly. Her face twitched; she was sobbing too hard to reply. ”Wrong answer!”  
Another spank. ”No-oohh!!”  
”Whaddya want?”  
”I want you to stop...” She gasped as his fingers found that good spot.  
”Mmm,” he purred. ”Ya sure?” He fingered her fast until her eyelids began to flutter, then stopped abruptly and chuckled at the resulting little whimper of protest. ”Make up yer mind!” Záhovar arched her back and squealed as his palm struck her rear once more.  
”Alright. You've got this one chance. Either I go on and you'll take whatever I got in store for ya, or I stop right now and walk out. I won't come back. Make up yer mind.”  
Záhovar's shoulders shook as she desperately tried to control her sobbing and do as told. She had trouble thinking straight; there were so many feelings raging inside and all she could focus on was that calloused hand that kept fondling her rear. Whenever she gathered her resolve in preparation for the next strike, a few flicks of those clawed fingers would take it all away, leaving her defenseless. Every time the hand disappeared she felt a little tremor of anticipation and fear run down her spine only to be replaced by a jolt of relief when it returned without striking her. He threw her back and forth between pain and pleasure, and with every flick and spank she wanted _more..._ Why did he do this to her? And why did he look at her like _that_ when doing so? As if she was... precious...  
The hand lightly patted her buttocks and she squeaked.  
”One,” Graznikh said cheerfully, making her heart race. ”Two... Three...”  
”Don't,” she squeaked. The hand disappeared and she began to tremble uncontrollably.  
”Don't what?”  
”Don't... stop...”  
”Which of it, 'don't' or 'stop'? Make up yer mind, âmbal..!”  
Záhovar tried to reply, but she was hyperventilating too hard. An exasperated little sigh was heard from above, followed by the slight intake of breath as he took aim.  
”DON'T STOP!!!” she finally managed to scream. Graznikh looked down as she began to cry hard, clinging to his thigh. Her tears had already stained the carpet below. He lowered his hand and caressed her back for a while before leaning close. ”Âmbal... Look at me.”  
Záhovar obeyed. Graznikh's eyes were two burning coals in the deep gloom, his smile calm and assertive. There was no mercy to be had in those eyes.  
”Ya sure?” he whispered. Záhovar swallowed hard, crying silently, and nodded. The coals flickered with dark satisfaction and he held her gaze as his hand slid down to finger her. She could not help but gasp a little as the pleasure returned and gave him a pleading look. Graznikh winked at her. She felt him pin her hips down with one arm. The fingers moved faster until she nearly lost it, only to withdraw and spank her hard. He repeated the procedure, spanking and fingering until pain and pleasure mercilessly corralled her into that place where she lost all control and she came with a paroxysmic yowl.  
”Good girl,” Graznikh purred while doing his best to draw it out for her. Then he flipped her over and tossed her into bed. ”Let's try this here fucknest, shall we?”  
Záhovar looked completely dazed, but her eyes widened as he grabbed her ankles.  
”How ya doin'?” he asked softly. ”I'm not too rough on ya, am I?” He chuckled as she shook her head. ”Knew you'd like it. Want some water afore we continue?”  
”Yes,” she murmured. Graznikh happily obliged and took a hefty swig as well before corking the bottle shut with a wince.  
”Skai, that's salty! Now then...” He eyed her body and licked his lips as he closed in. ”That's a pretty arse... You sure can take a pounding. But can you take cock as well?”  
Záhovar's only reply was a shuddering moan as he pawed her. She clutched the sheets and lifted her hips as he spread her legs wide. The water and rest seemed to have livened her up a little; when he rubbed her with the tip of his cock, she met his eyes with something that may have been a smile.  
”Think you that I cannot handle it?” she whispered.  
”We'll see, my queen, now won't we?” With that, he plunged them both beyond all rational thought.  
  
  
”Wanna play dice?” Praktash asked.  
Sulmurz gave him a dubious look. ”Since when did ya start gamblin'?”  
Praktash shrugged. ”Some time's gotta be the first. I can figure it out as we play.”  
Sulmurz was sceptical at first, but Praktash turned out to already know the rules for ”Eye”. _Maybe he paid attention when I told the others,_ he thought. _Or maybe he's played it before._ He did have to show him how to throw the dice to keep them from ending up all over the room though.  
Praktash giggled like an idiot the third time it happened and went to pick them up. ”Skai, I suck at this game!”  
Sulmurz watched him go, but as he squatted down to pick them up he tossed back his red hair and shot him an absolutely _smouldering_ look over his shoulder, complete with parted, pouting lips and heavy eyelids, a look that sent a hot and cold shiver down Sulmurz's spine and made him want to scratch his way out through the wall.  
”Here,” Praktash said when he returned to the table. ”Wanna throw?”  
”M-maybe we should do summat else,” Sulmurz muttered without looking at him.  
Praktash shrugged and put the dice on the table. After Sulmurz swept them down into his pocket, they drank in awkward silence for a while.  
”Y'know, you really should try to get over that,” Praktash said.  
”'S none o' yer business, Uruk. I don't need to get over anything!”  
”...Oh. So _that's_ how it is.”  
”...How izzit?”  
”You're a _snob._ ”  
”Nar, I'm not!”  
”I get it though. It's hard not to be after a tumble with _her_. That shit spoils ya rotten.”  
Sulmurz opened his mouth to protest, but had nothing to say to that.  
”I'm not just talkin' about me here though,” Praktash continued. ”The 'get over it' part, I mean. I'm talkin' about others too. It's not like this is gonna ease up for ya now.”  
Sulmurz glanced at him sullenly. ”Whaddya mean?”  
”I _mean_ that folks'll get ideas. There are places where our master's tastes are well-known, an' not frowned upon. When one o' the folks frequentin' those places spots your collar, it'll be out there in the open.”  
"What will be?”  
”You ruttin' a Top One. Folks'll hear that an' think 'that one's gotta be special'. 'That one knows stuff we don't'. 'That one's gotta be a good fuck to get there'. An' you know how it is in Lugburz; the ladies're downstairs, all locked away. Now who d'you think will come after ya?”  
Sulmurz stared down into his mug with growing discomfort. ”Maybe I should ask her to have one o' those chastity belts made for me...”  
Praktash snorted into his drink at that. ”Will it cover your arse too? Might be a tricky situation if you need to take a dump.”  
”I didn't plan for _her_ to hold the key.”  
”Nar,” Praktash murmured with a seductive little leer. ”You could give it to me. Y'know I'd keep ya... safe.” He chuckled at the look of pure disgust that Sulmurz gave him.  
”You're the _last_ one I'd give it to!”  
”That's too bad... I'd just _love_ to unlock your package.”  
”Shut up!”  
”You really _should_ try it some time,” Praktash purred. ”The good way, not tark rape. They don't know shit about fuckin' anyway.” He lit up. ”I could ask Drauma to join us! It's a whole new feelin', bein' trapped between two guys like that... But I get it!” he quickly added with raised hands as Sulmurz took a deep breath, ready to yell at him to shut up. ”You don't wanna. An' that's fine.”  
  
Sulmurz snorted with disgust. Then he decided to pay him back in kind. ”So why don'tcha like plashnak?”  
”Pretty much for the same reason you don't like karkû.”  
Sulmurz arched an eyebrow. ”How does that even work? It's not like a female could rape ya.”  
” You don't know the half of it,” Praktash muttered. ”Ever heard of compulsion?”  
”That stuff Graznikh went through? He didn't look raped to me.”  
”That's 'cause he was under hate-compulsion. Lust-compulsion's different. _Completely_ different.”  
”How?”  
”It makes your body want whatever the one holdin' the leash tells ya to or does to ya. Doesn't matter what it is, how much it hurts, how twisted it is. You're still yourself on the inside, but you can't control one bit o' what your body does.”  
”...How's that even work?”  
Praktash leaned back against the wall with a thoughtful frown. ”If Záhovar placed ya under lust-compulsion, then one word from her could have you backin' up on the first Uruk that passed by, arsecheeks spread, beggin' for him to stuff ya full and holler for more throughout. But inside, you'd still be _you,_ you'd still feel it all an' hate it, but love it at the same time 'cause it felt so good even though it shouldn't. Now imagine if that happened a few times; how would you feel after?”  
Sulmurz felt like he was going to be sick. He took several mouthfuls of booze to steady himself and calm his insides. ”So... That's what happened to ya? Compulsion'n then... What? She... rode ya, or what? Made ya fuck 'er?”  
”At first,” Praktash said. ”Later... Well, imagine the sickest, most degradin' fuck-related stuff you can. C'mon, gimme your worst.”  
”...Fuckin' a goat?”  
”Worse. Try again.”  
”Getting fucked by a goat?”  
”Again.”  
”Havin' a goat-”  
”What izzit with you an' goats?! Again.”  
”...Gettin' tied up an' told to get it up, then threatened to have yer balls cut off if ya don't? What's so bloody funny?” he asked when Praktash began to laugh.  
”That's what Záza did to me the first time.”  
”Nar!”  
”Yes!”  
”Why?!”  
”Let's see... Before Graz moved in with her, he used to stay with me down by East Gate. When he moved up, Dachman thought I was in league with her as well. I'd never met her by then, so I didn't know shit. But he had me tortured an' when he finally got it into his head that I had no info, he dumped me in Morgai. Graz found me'n dragged me back to Lugburz to meet Záhovar. My legs were broken an' I needed a sawbones to set 'em straight. She put me under compulsion, fear-based I think, an' told Graz some shit about keepin' me on the edge of the Wraith-world. It removed the pain, but I went crazy with fear an' ran for it as soon as I could walk again. She had me'n Graz hauled back, threw us in her dungeon, then teased Graznikh with a soft tickle-whip 'til he was crazy horny. But she put an illusion on it, so all I saw was one o' those barbed hook-whips that sets the blood sprayin' with every lash. When I started callin' her stuff, she did the whole cock'n ball torture thing with me.”  
”...Did ya get it up?”  
”Yeah, with some help from Graz.” He grinned. ”But I got so _pissed!_ So I pulled the cuffs right outta the wall an' had my way with her.”  
Sulmurz couldn't believe his ears. ”Ya _raped_ her?!”  
”Yeah... Though I'm not sure it was rape, really; I figure she had it all planned from the start. 'S the only time I've willingly fucked a plashnak, as far as I can remember; I was aimin' for the other hole but missed, an' I was so pissed I just didn't give a shit. Then I set Graz loose an' he fucked her too. After that we had a long serious chat about things'n made up.”  
”That's just creepy,” Sulmurz commented and Praktash nodded.  
”Yup. She's a mind-messin' makatok, but she's _my_ mind-messin' makatok. Or... Ours.” Then he grew serious. ”But she's different. She cares, a bit too much at times. She doesn't use Orcs or Uruks as mere swordfodder, she wants to make things better for us. Most Top Ones're nothin' like her. They're wicked for real. If you're smart, you stay as far away from them as you can. Bein' collared isn't enough protection when it comes to rival High Officers.”  
  
Sulmurz nodded and downed the last of his drink. Something small but solid got lodged in his throat; he started coughing and spat it out. It turned out to be an uneven, dark brown little pebble, half-melted by the booze. ”The fuck..?”  
”Lemme see that,” Praktash said and took the mug from him. The Uruk's face contorted as he looked into it. ”That's just bloody gross... rat shit. Don't they clean the mugs before they fill 'em? I thought this was a decent place!” He put the mug down and got up, wobbling a little. ”I'mma go yell at 'em.”  
”Nar, don't bother,” Sulmurz grunted. ”I've had worse down my throat. Oh come _on!_ ” he exclaimed as Praktash lost his balance from giggling too hard. ”I didn't mean it like that!”  
”I _know,_ ” Praktash gasped. ”That just makes it even better!”  
”Ya sick bugger,” Sulmurz muttered, but could not help but snicker a little. Praktash looked up with a surprised grin.  
”You _laughed!_ ” he exclaimed. ”I haven't heard ya laugh before. Not from anythin' I've said or done, at least.”  
”Guess I'm gettin' drunk,” Sulmurz said while trying to force the grin down.  
”So tell me about _girls,_ ” Praktash said with a grin as he sat back down, this time on the same side of the table as Sulmurz. ”About Záhovar; whaddya see in her?”  
Sulmurz shrugged. ”Guess I just like bein' scared shitless every now and then.”  
”You're a _snaga,_ ” Praktash giggled.  
”Aye, I am; so what? 'S nothing wrong with that! If there weren't any snaga, there'd be nothing for you bossy Uruks to boss around but each other, and that wouldn't be pretty.”  
”Why not?”  
”Because when two bossy types starts tryin' to boss each other around, it usually ends with one of 'em gettin' bossed into an early grave!”  
”Oooh... Right. So that's what ya like about her? That she's bossy?”  
”It's not just that; she's _strong!_ Not... I'm not talkin' muscles now, it's more like... It's in her eyes, her voice, the way she walks, I-I dunno how to describe it!”  
”Powerful? Officery?”  
”Officery, yeah! She's a Top One for real, it's like they made the title just waitin' for her to pick it up.”  
”I know what you mean,” Praktash murmured. ”'Zat has that too, but in a different way. The title fits him, not the other way around. They're both made to reach the top.”  
”Aye... Just bein' there at her feet, knowin' that one word from her'd send half the Tower scramblin' to tear ya apart if ya displease her... Knowing that ya _can_ please her, and how... Sha!” He groaned and rubbed his groin.  
”So what's fuckin' her like? I'm sorry again for what happened after that first time, by the way; never meant for it to get outta hand like that.”  
”Never mind, I had a headache'n was kinda grumpy since I didn't remember anything,” Sulmurz replied with a dismissive gesture. ”As for fucking her...” He leered. ”Best fuck o' my life, not countin' all the times I fucked her after. She bloody hit me!”  
Praktash snickered. ”She _hit_ ya?”  
”Aye! I went too slow for her taste, and instead o' just shoutin' 'harder!', she turned around; I couldn't do that move without hurtin' meself; an' then...” He made a gesture as if slapping someone in the face. ”Smack! No holdin' back at all. And she _growled_ at me; never heard her growl before, t'was bloody _cute_! And she said; 'you'll fuck me like you know how to do it'!”  
”And did you?”  
”Ya bet I did,” Sulmurz leered. ”Had her squealin' my name by the end o' it, along with 'yes, yes, yes'!”  
Praktash let out a horny little purr. ”Bet you felt good too, huh? Sweet little fucker that you are.”  
”Can we talk about something else?” Sulmurz gasped. ”'S getting bloody uncomfortable here!”  
”You alright, little guy?”  
”Aye, aye, 's just...”  
”Just what?”  
Sulmurz groaned. ”Stop looking at me like that!”  
”Sorry,” Praktash murmured. ”It's just... You're kinda good-lookin' for a snaga.”  
”Th-that's just the booze talking!”  
”Not sure it is, really. What about you?”  
”Whu... What about me?”  
”You look kinda... strained.”  
  
Sulmurz scowled as he pressed his hands against his crotch. It ached and tickled, he was suddenly so horny that he had trouble forming coherent sentences. ”The fff... fuck's happening to me?!”  
Praktash straightened up with a concerned look. ”Is the rash returnin'? It shouldn't do that; the salve I gave ya was good.”  
”Nnnh... not th' rash, it's...” Sulmurz looked up with heavy eyelids as Praktash's hand landed on his thigh. He weakly tried to fight back, but it was as if all strength had drained from his limbs and the moment the Uruk's other hand found the lacing on his trousers, he found that he could not move. He opened his mouth to scream, but Praktash quickly covered it with his own, catching his fangs and preventing him from biting. Sulmurz's eyes grew round as he felt a foreign tongue explore his own to the sound of laces tearing and a groan escaped him as his cock was freed. The Uruk's hand began to knead and tug it with slow, determined moves.  
Sulmurz wanted to flee, or fight, or faint. Anything to escape this situation. But his blood was like a roaring fire in his veins and the Uruk's hand felt so bloody _good_ and how was this even possible?  
Praktash chuckled darkly as he squeezed Sulmurz's cock, forcing a needy moan from him and feeling it pulse in his hand.  
”Yeah, I can tell you don't like this,” he purred into his mouth as he let go of his fangs. ”You hate every eyeblink of this, don'tcha? Maybe I should stop..?”  
”Don't...” Sulmurz began but coughed and spat as his own slaver threatened to drown him. ”Don't stop!”  
”You sure?” Praktash asked huskily.  
”Fuuuck!” Sulmurz groaned as his cock got fondled faster.  
”Is _that_ what you want?”  
”Nar! Ahh... Sha!”  
Praktash chuckled. ”Alright, I'll give ya a good, sweet suck... On _one_ condition.”  
”Wha... What condition?” Sulmurz gasped. He whimpered as Praktash held a finger up.  
”When this finger finds your arse, you better spunk that same bloody moment. If you don't, if you spunk too soon or too late, your arse is mine for the rest of the night. Got it?”  
Sulmurz whimpered. ”Yuh... You wouldn't...”  
”I'm not gonna trick ya Sully, you'll see. Honest! I'll give ya a proper good headstart before I try anythin'.” Sulmurz still hesitated, and suddenly it was as though the Uruk's face changed entirely. The obnoxious, cocksure smile disappeared and the black, almond-shaped pupils in his eyes slowly widened until they almost blocked out the green. It looked so _hot._ He held his gaze as he licked his lips and lowered his head. Sulmurz could not help but moan as he felt hot breath envelop his cock. Praktash gave him a quizzical look and Sulmurz desperately tried to find the resolve needed to say no, to back out, to keep this from happening. But he was so _horny,_ his entire body ached and screamed for release and his head felt like it was filled with Rhûnish sugar-sauce. And so his head nodded when he meant to shake it. He let out a loud, strangled groan as his entire length disappeared into the Uruk's mouth.

Praktash felt a little flutter of delight as Sulmurz's hips rose up to meet him. _Looks like I was right; you_ do _want this!_  
He set a slow, steady pace, playing with tongue and lips until Sulmurz was completely beside himself; he was holding onto the strawbag with one fist while the other wandered down to tangle in red Uruk hair. Praktash watched his eyes roll back as he took all of him down his throat and swallowed hard a few times. Then he spread his legs wide and pushed them up so that he could reach further down.  
Sulmurz squeaked as he felt a finger tap his tailbone. _I'm not ready!!_ Praktash did not jam it up his arse right away though, but slowly traced the curve of his buttock instead. The Uruk's strong tongue kneaded the length of his cock before swallowing it again, making Sulmurz forget all about the finger from the sheer pleasure of his attentions.  
The finger returned, this time brushing the skin behind his balls before sliding down towards his arse. It stopped and suddenly Sulmurz twitched as it gently pressed into the area between his balls and his arse and found some spot that felt surprisingly good. _What the fuck..?  
_ Praktash sucked hard and purred, and the vibrations made Sulmurz's face contort. As the Uruk wiggled his blunt claw against that other spot the combined sensations forced a keening moan over his lips. _There's no..! I can't..! I'm gonna..!_  
Then another finger, soaked wet by the Uruk's spittle, unexpectedly slipped into his arse and ever so gently brushed that special spot directly, and Sulmurz came so hard he thought he would turn himself inside out. He had never experienced anything like it; the finger in his arse kept caressing, slowly sliding in and out while he spunked over and over until there was nothing left. Once he went limp, he felt so drained that he didn't even bother to open his eyes. Absently he felt someone, supposedly the Uruk, pull his pants up and do something to them at his waist. Then he was left alone and drifted off into sleep.  
  
  
”Please,” Záhovar gasped as she fell back onto the bed. ”I cannot take any more!”  
”What, you done already?” Graznikh leered. ”I don't think so; still got a few rounds left in me.” He savoured her lovely, terrified expression as he pawed her body and moved into position again.  
”You are insatiable!”  
”Nar; _you_ are insatiable! And you're still able to talk, that means you haven't had enough of my cock yet. Or the rest o' me. Whaddya say?” Her outstretched hands that pulled him back was all the answer he needed.  
Some time of franting humping, clawing, nibbling, biting and licking later they both fell back into bed, sweatsoaked and exhausted. Graznikh took some time to catch his breath before stretching out beside his prey. Záhovar was staring up into the alcove's mosaic ceiling, but when he touched her she met his gaze with a wide-eyed, bewildered expression.  
”See?” Graznikh said quietly and brushed a few strands of damp hair off her forehead with a black claw. ”Doesn't matter how much they wipe your memory or how high ya climb in the Tower. You'll always be my little âmbal. I've played the obedient snaga so far, and I'll keep doing that in public. But in here, between the two o' us, I won't no more. Got it? You're _mine,_ not the other way 'round. And I intend to keep ya.”  
Záhovar stared at him and at first Graznikh thought that she would grow angry with him. But then her lower lip trembled and she began to cry. He put an arm around her and held her close. ”'S okay âmbal, I'm here...”  
Záhovar did not fully understand why she cried. Graznikh's actions and the way he had spoken to her had jarred something loose inside, a ghost of a memory she did not even knew existed. She had looked into his eyes before, felt the same fear, anticipation and arousal. She did not know when or where this happened, but... ”He was not there.”  
”Hnh?” Graznikh grunted.  
”Our Master,” Záhovar whispered with wide eyes, realisation dawning on her. ”When I saw you... _felt_ you... that first time. He was not there.”  
Graznikh's heart almost stopped. ”Nar... Nar, t'was just you and me back then.” He forced himself to remain calm as he met her gaze. ”I told ya that, remember?”  
”Hearing is one thing. Knowing is... another.” Her voice was thick with dread; she was trembling and Graznikh suddenly realised that she was about to break the way she did when she remembered too much, too fast. Only this time there was no bond to keep her steady.  
”Nar!” he snarled and slapped her lightly. ”Don'tcha fuckin' dare fade on me now! Not now! Âmbal? Záhovar!!” He grabbed her head with both hands. ”Look at me!”  
As if by sheer will, her eyes moved a little to focus on him. The dull light in them was steadily fading, little by little, and Graznikh thought he would go mad with fear. ”Break the spell! D'ya hear me?! Break it and gimme the bond back!” He tried to reach out as well, forcing himself against the barrier that kept him from her until his insides ached with more than just the fear of losing her. ”Don't you let go! Skai, open the fucking bond!!”  
The next moment the bond opened wide. Graznikh howled as the cobwebs of hate closed in on all sides, tearing at his mind. _Can't lose her..! Can't lose her!!_ Fighting through the red haze with all his might, he closed his eyes, turned inward and reached out in search of her. She was so weak, barely there at all, frail and frightened, but Graznikh began to pump his own strength into her. She fought him weakly, tried to resist, to push him out.  
”Don't you let go now,” he growled against her cheek. ”Don't let go!”  
Once more she tried to turn away, almost slipping. Graznikh's claws dug into her shoulders.  
”REACH!!!” he roared in her ear.  
  
_The haven burned, but all was shrouded in darkness. She could hear the screams of the dying and the fearful wails of the trapped, the roar of the fires and the crack as beams and walls fell. But all was dark. ”Where am I?”  
HERE.  
”Where is 'here'?”  
The dark mist dispersed just enough to make the ground before her visible. It revealed the body of a man with pointy ears; he wore fine armour of polished steel and sea blue silk underneath. A dagger of Orc-make protruded from his chest.  
YOU CANNOT SAVE HIM. THAT TIME IS LONG GONE.  
”I do not know what else to do.”  
LOOK FORWARD.  
”...Who are you?”  
The shadows dispersed even more, revealing a familiar silhouette standing nearby. I AM YOU.  
”But... if you are me, then... Who am I?”  
YOU ARE ME.  
She looked down. Her hands were charred and the skin on her fingertips cracked as she bent them, bleeding black. ”I should be dead.”  
BUT YOU ARE NOT. THE PAST, HOWEVER, IS. LOOK FORWARD.  
”Where is 'forward'?”  
ONLY YOU KNOW.  
”But... you are me.”  
The darkness smiled.  
_  
  
For a brief moment, her presence almost winked out. But then something that could only be described as a psychic explosion shook the very core of his being and all went black. She drained his strength so fast that he nearly lost consciousness, but then it stopped and slowly but surely, he regained his sight. The pupils in Záhovar's eyes dilated and shrank repeatedly as if they could not decide whether they should be round or slit.  
”Hang on, Whin,” he whispered. ”Stay with me... Please..!”  
Záhovar closed her eyes and ever so slowly, her breathing calmed. She was icy to the touch and Graznikh began to despair, but then she took a deep breath and sat up.  
”Âmbal? Ya back?” She nodded and Graznikh began to grin, but she turned away and began to weep. At the same time, something that could only be described as a waspnest of hate descended upon his mind, buzzing and stabbing. He doubled over with a roar. Záhovar turned back and placed a hand on his, but he shoved her away and clawed up her chest at the same time.  
”Get outta here!” he growled through gritted teeth. ”Go, before I... Just go!!”  
She scrambled to her feet and Graznikh had to struggle not to chase her down; the scent of blood, _her_ blood, was so enticing..! This time however, he could feel the alien presence and recognise it for what it was as they fought for control over his mind and body.

Meanwhile, Záhovar fled out into the lounge where she collided with Praktash.  
”Hey Kafsokhôr,” he said with a grin as he caught her. One look at her tearstreaked face and the scent of blood made his grin disappear. ”What's wrong?”  
”It's Graznikh! He's-” A hoarse roar from the bedroom made her look back. Praktash patted her back before running towards it.  
”Buddy?” He found Graznikh on the bedroom floor. White foam had gathered around his lips and his eyes were so bloodshot that the white in them was mottled with black.  
”Fuck...” Praktash breathed. ”Buddy? Graz!? Is it poison?”  
Graznikh stiffly shook his head.  
”I broke it,” Záhovar said from the door, her voice little more than a whisper. ”I broke the spell. The rage is returning...”  
Praktash nodded and leaned over Graznikh where he lay on the floor. ”Buddy, listen to me. Has it taken hold yet?” He grinned meekly as Graznikh shook his head with mechanical movements. ”You can beat this, I know it. You're the strongest, toughest bastard I know! You're not gonna let some paltry witch get in the way, not now when we're done an' on our way home. Right?” He pressed his forehead against Graznikh's sweaksoaked brow. ”Remember when we'd just met, back in Lugburz, near East Gate. Remember that? You were tryin' to teach me how to throw knives, but I was crap at it. An' you told me to focus, to _feel_ the way the knife went as I threw it. Why don'tcha do that now? Feel the way outta those webs. Fend 'em off. Cut 'em away!”  
”Lose your body but not your soul,” Záhovar whispered somewhere nearby. ”Fall but do not falter. Split in two and remain steady in that which is _you_.”  
Graznikh's eyes were still glassy, but he frowned. His breath caught as he focused, eyes slowly widening until Praktash feared that they would fall out. Then all of a sudden he roared and shot up, only to fall forward and nearly hit the floor before Praktash caught him. Once on his knees, he stared in bewilderment at nothing in particular.  
Praktash watched him intently. ”Buddy?” Behind him, Záhovar gasped.  
”It's gone,” Graznikh whispered. Then he laughed out loud, startling them both. ”It's _gone!_ I beat it, I fucking beat it!!” He jumped to his feet, grabbed Záhovar's arm and pulled her close. ”I'm free...” he murmured as he rubbed his nose against the bewildered Officer's face. ”Free...” Then he looked at Praktash; the Uruk was still kneeling on the floor, biting his trembling lower lip, smiling like a lovesick idiot and crying quietly, all at once. Graznikh gave him a big grin. ”Buddy... you're a mess. Get over here.”  
”I hate this!” Praktash wailed as he collapsed against his shoulder.  
”I know ya do,” Graznikh chuckled. ”You're one weird, twisted Uruk... and Elf,” he added and rubbed his cheek against Záhovar's. ”So just to confirm; we're back together for real now?”  
She responded by kissing him, causing Praktash to break down from emotional overload all over again. Graznikh almost fell over.  
”Buddyyy, I can't carry all o' ya!”  
Záhovar withdrew a little and looked around with a frown. ”Speaking of 'together'... Where is Sulmurz?”  
Praktash blinked. ”...Oops.”

 


	2. The Point Of Return

Záhovar looked up with a frown as Graznikh returned. ”Gone?”  
”He's nowhere in the fortress, unless he's found some hideyhole I dunno about. Haven't seen him since I slammed the door in his face.” Graznikh scratched the scar on his left cheek. ”No idea where he could be.” He looked at Praktash, who sat in one of the armchairs with his feet on the table, seemingly busy with filing his claws. ”You saw him last. Where'd ya leave him?”  
”We had a drink, or a few actually, at that alehouse down by the gate. The Shiverin' Shark or whatever they call it. He got involved in some game, y'know what he's like. Haven't seen him since. Maybe he went to a whorehouse?”  
”That'd be just like him,” Graznikh muttered. Then he frowned. ”Wait; how d'ya know about those?”  
Praktash gave him a blank look. ”It's a place where you can get a fuck, no strings attached. What makes you think I _didn't_ know about 'em?”  
”...Point taken. Ya hopeless bugger.”  
Praktash laughed at that. Graznikh turned back to Záhovar. ”I'll go take a gander in the streets, see if I can sniff him out.”  
”I'll give ya a hand,” Praktash said with a gesture towards his toes. ”Just lemme finish this up. Don't worry Záza, we'll find him!”  
  
It took them quite a while to search the maze-like port city, but eventually they found Sulmurz in an alley, dead drunk but otherwise unharmed. He struggled and raved as they dragged him back to the fortress.  
”Here ya go!” Praktash said cheerfully as he tossed him before Záhovar's feet. ”One snaga, marinated an' done. Just keep your distance; he's so drunk he might burst into flames if he gets too close to anythin' _hot_.”  
Záhovar gave Sulmurz the night to sober up before interrogating him. When he was dragged out of bed the morning after, his eyes were bloodshot and he shied away from the ghostlight on the walls.  
”Skai, my head...”  
”Here,” Praktash chirped and held out a mug. ”This'll get ya jumpin' again!”  
”Fuck off!!” Sulmurz snarled and sank to the floor with a loud whine, clutching his temples.  
”Drink it,” Záhovar commanded. Sulmurz meekly did as told, and after a while he seemed much more alert.  
”Now then; why did you go on a drunken rampage through the harbour? You had no leave to do such a thing.”  
”'S not my fault,” Sulmurz grunted while staring at the floor. ”That piece o' shit over there...”  
”What did he do? Answer me!”  
”He... he raped me.”  
”I didn't rape him,” Praktash protested with a grin. ”He begged me for it!”  
”After ya bloody _drugged_ me!!” Sulmurz roared.  
”I told you, it was rat shit!”  
”LIKE FUCK IT WAS!!!”  
”I should bloody know! There are no drugs that do what you think they do!”  
”Sure there are,” Graznikh said with a dour expression. ”The stuff they use down in the breeding pits. You said you made that.”  
Praktash sighed. ”You're supposed to be on my side, buddy.”  
”When've I ever been on your side in this? You're an idiot! Do we have to kick ya back out on the street for you to fall in line?”  
”What?! Look; I didn't rape him! I sucked him off, nothin' more! An' he did ask me for it!”  
”Like fuck I'd ever ask for that from _you!_ ” Sulmurz shouted.  
”YOU WERE DRUNK!!” Praktash roared back. ”Y'know what I think? I think you've been wantin' that to happen ever since you saw me give it to 'Zat that first time! An' last night you looked like you wanted it, sounded like you wanted it, smelled like you wanted it, fuckin' _said_ you wanted it! What the fuck was I supposed to think?! Only you're so hung up on what those tarks did that you think everyone here's gonna treat ya the same!”  
”What tarks?” Graznikh asked.   
Praktash fell silent. ”Err...”  
Sulmurz gave him a look of pure venom. ”I fuckin' _hate_ you!!”  
”Care to explain?” Záhovar said coolly.  
Praktash gave Sulmurz a look. ”You or me?” When Sulmurz only cowered where he stood and refused to answer, the Uruk rolled his eyes. ”He got raped by tarks as a cub. An' for some reason, he blames _me_ for it.”  
”'M not blamin' _you,_ ” Sulmurz hissed.  
”Then why the fuck d'ya piss on me all the time? It's not my fault you've got a cock-block the size of Rhûn in your head!”  
”I just _hate_ ya, 's that so bloody hard to get?”  
Praktash gave him an insolent grin. ”You are _such_ a snaga.”  
”Says the guy who rolls for anything even resemblin' a cock! You'd rut a dog if it rubbed ya the right way!”  
Now Praktash was no longer smiling. ”Watch that tongue.”  
”Go shove yours up a troll's arse!”  
”Alright, that's enough!” Graznikh snapped as both began to growl. ”I said _ENOUGH!!!_ Buddy, come with me.”  
”Don't waste yer breath,” Sulmurz snarled at him. Then he left and slammed the door shut after him.  
Graznikh sighed. ”You're on yer own, buddy.” Then he followed Sulmurz.  
  
Praktash gave the door a longing look before turning to face his doom. Záhovar was watching him with a thoughtful expression and the long silence before she spoke made his skin crawl. There was nothing to reveal her mood, nothing except the fact that the shadows that had once been still now seemed to billow around the edges of his field of view, but whenever he looked straight at them they were still.  
”Tell me something.”  
”Anythin'.”  
”Why are you so inherently incapable of following orders?”  
”I'm not... It's just this one!”  
”Why?”  
Praktash sank down into an armchair after receiving permission to do so. Záhovar claimed the other without taking her eyes off him. ”Speak.”  
”I don't know why,” Praktash began. ”It's like with those snaga back in Lugburz; they're small, they're weak, they deserve what's comin' an'... I mean, that's what Lugburz is all about, right? If you can't defend yourself, you're snaga an' then you're free game to whoever can top ya!”  
”This is not about Lugburz or its workings; this is about _you._ ”  
”I'm not gonna hurt him! Or... maybe a little, just to rile him. But I won't kill or damage him! I know I used to, but that was just so they wouldn't snitch. Right now I don't care if he snitches.”  
”No, clearly you are fully capable of 'snitching' on yourself.” Záhovar smirked. ”You say that he 'deserves' it... Does that mean that you deserved what you went through in Blog Shakâmb?”  
Praktash immediately perked up. ”Oh, don't you fuckin' _dare_ go there..!”  
”I go wherever I please, as you well know,” Záhovar said sternly. ”You are not beyond her reach yet! If Blog Shakâmb comes for you, would you rather that Sulmurz stepped aside and refused to aid you, all because of your petty ideas of snaga and their worthlessness?”  
Praktash growled. ”I've been hidin' from that witch for years, long before you came by! I don't need no snaga to watch my back!”  
”Have you told Graznikh as much?”  
”He's different! Besides, Sully couldn't do shit if that happened anyway. If she knew...” Then he fell silent, dread understanding slowly dawning upon him. ”My files... In the Archives... Shit!!”   
”You did not seriously think that an Uruk cound avert the eyes of the Tower?” Záhovar asked as he shot to his feet and began pacing the room in a panic. ”Your return journey has been long in the planning, without a doubt, and my claiming you as Lug-snaga may have been the only thing staving that off. Now we may be your only shield. Yes, even Sulmurz.”  
”I don't _care_ about Sulmurz!!” Praktash shouted. ”Why didn'tcha tell me this before?!”  
”And what good would it have done? It would only have piled another burden on you, a burden you would carry needlessly!”  
”But now's a fine time?”  
”Now is the perfect time. A confrontation between me and Gîrakûn will happen; it is not a question of 'if', but 'when'. You have my word that I will do everything within my power to defend you when that time comes, _if_ you give me your word that you will leave Sulmurz be and stick to it.”  
Praktash couldn't believe his ears. ”You're gonna barter my life?!”  
”If that is what it takes to make you obey, then yes, I will. This is not a negotiation; I need unity in the ranks if I am to risk my life to protect us all.”  
”I won't touch him again,” Praktash said, his voice breaking a little. ”Skai, I won't touch _anyone_ again, if it'll keep me outta that place!”  
”You know that I will not ask that of you. You have Graznikh, and whatever you can dredge up from the streets, I will not comment on that. Be content, for the time being, and let him be too. Perhaps a day may come when you find that his opinion of you has changed.”  
Praktash gave her a disbelieving glance but nodded. ”Alright. Have it your way, Záza.” He sat quiet for a moment. ”But... As long as I stay on the right side o' that line, can I keep tryin' to heal him?”  
Záhovar frowned. ”Heal him? Of what?”  
Praktash walked over to her and leaned in close. Then he began to whisper in her ear.  
  
Sulmurz stopped on the fortress' outer wall, snarling at everything and nothing in particular. He was busy pacing when Graznikh appeared, leaning casually against the battlement while sipping from his booze skin. Sulmurz eventually calmed down enough to join him, but declined when he was offered a drink.  
”'M not gonna drink anythin' that bastard offers me again.”  
”Well, thanks for calling me a bastard,” Graznikh replied with a sneer.  
”Didn't mean _you..._ Skai, I'm really in for it this time, huh?”  
”Nar, you're not the one who's in trouble. Our master's been threatening my buddy with compulsion or worse ever since the Crags; I'd wager he's reached the end o' her patience.” Graznikh took another swig from the skin. ”So... tarks, eh?”  
”Drop it.”  
”Fine with me... Not like we need more reasons to kill 'em.”  
They stood in silence for a while and watched the busy streets far below. Graznikh hauled up a piece of dried meat and began to chew. Then Sulmurz snorted and choked back a snicker.  
”Breedin' pits?” he asked in response to Graznikh's inquiring glance. ”Really?”  
”You don't wanna know.”  
”Aye, I do!”  
Graznikh winced. ”They're not all they're made out to be.”  
”What's wrong with 'em?”  
”Apart from keeping half our kind locked up as sows in a tark farmer's bagronk?”  
”And what if they were not? You'd send preggy ladies off to fight?”  
”Nar! But between whelping, I don't see why we should treat 'em any different from the rest. Have you ever _seen_ a gal with cubs to protect? Or a guy for that matter, or _anyone._ You don't mess with 'em, 's all I'm saying. Having cubs around gives ya a reason to fight.”  
Sulmurz gave him an odd look. ”The Eye isn't enough?”  
”I didn't say that! It's just...” He shrugged. ”Without cubs, there'd be no new fighters. Or new _anything._ And they should run free, climb, fight, hunt, grow strong in their own time. Not get chucked into bootcamps and fed slop and worked 'til their bones bleed.”  
”What, like 'at one?”  
In the alley below, Sulmurz had spotted a Mannish child, probably some slave woman's brat that had eloped. It was picking through a pile of refuse near one of the brick buildings. A sound made the Orcas on the wall perk up, but the brat seemed oblivious to the fact that a group of snaga Orcs were approaching from the other end of a crossing street. The encounter could only end one way. Graznikh turned his head away with a low growl, and only looked back once the screams had ended.  
”Tell ya what?” Sulmurz said. ”I don't think our cubs'd have it better out in the open.”  
Graznikh gave the scene below a depressed look. ”Let's go back inside.”

Záhovar and Praktash were waiting for them when they returned. The handsome Uruk had a few creases around his eyes that told Graznikh that he was tense, but looked otherwise unharmed and greeted him with a smile and a nod as he entered the room with Sulmurz in tow.  
”Hey Sully,” Praktash called.  
”Don't touch me,” came the muttered reply.  
”...I wasn't goin' to.”  
”Good.”  
Praktash gave Záhovar a hopeless look.  
”Sulmurz,” Záhovar said and was rewarded with an apprehensive bow.  
”Aye, master?”  
”Behave.”  
”Aye, master.”  
The rest of the evening passed slowly. The only one who was seemingly untouched by the dreary mood was Záhovar, who reclined on her bed with a book after dinner. Graznikh sank into an armchair with a groan and began to purr as Praktash kneaded his shoulders.  
”That reminds me,” the Uruk purred in his ear. ”I haven't given ya a backrub in ages.”  
”You're right,” Graznikh replied. ”Happy ending?”  
”If you like...”  
”Refrain from it or take each other elsewhere,” Záhovar said without looking up from her book.  
Praktash snickered at Graznikh's exaggerated pout. ”No happy endin' then. Sorry buddy!”  
While Graznikh got up, Praktash stared absently at some point just above Sulmurz's shoulder and slowly licked his lips in a manner that Sulmurz found extraordinarily provocative.  
”Will ya sod off with that?!” he snapped after a while.  
Praktash froze, tongue still in the corner of his mouth, and gave him an insolently inquisitive look. ”What?”  
”You _know_ what!”  
”Gimme a break, Sully! What, I can't even pick my teeth anymore? Should I stop breathin' too?”  
”Please do!”   
  
They both jumped as Záhovar closed her book with a snap.  
”So which one of you will leave?” she asked mildly. The silence that followed could have made the Nazgûl uncomfortable.  
Sulmurz was the one to break it. ”Leave?” he asked faintly.  
”Yes,” Záhovar replied. ”I have had enough dramatics to last me a lifetime of Men. Your choice is simple; either the two of you kiss and make up this very moment, or one of you will leave for Udûn at the next toll.”  
Graznikh crawled into bed and snaked his arms around her from behind, leaning his chin on her shoulder. ”I'm with ya,” he murmured. ”Whatever you decide.”  
”Didn't we just agree on me _not_ doin' that?” Praktash asked.  
”Of your own volition, yes,” Záhovar replied with a disturbing little smile. ”I, however, am still your master. To the _both_ of you.”  
”...Oh. Oh, you nasty little..!” Praktash chuckled. ”Well, alright. That's an easy choice if I ever heard one. Right, Sully?”  
Sulmurz finally managed to get his tongue to obey. ” _Kiss?!_ ”  
Praktash smacked his lips loudly. ”Pucker up, Sully!”  
Sulmurz had never felt as humiliated as when he lifted his gaze to meet Záhovar's cold stare. ”I'm only doin' this 'cause it's you,” he whispered. ”Anyone else, I woulda...” He slowly turned to the leering Uruk. As he closed in, Sulmurz shied away and swallowed hard. ”Wait, err... is this one with fangs'n shit, or... regular?”  
”Regular?” Praktash snorted.   
Záhovar looked deep in thought for a moment before she answered. ”Regular.”  
”Alright,” Praktash muttered. Without further ado, he grabbed Sulmurz's ears and forced back his protests with mouth and tongue. Sulmurz struggled at first, but then he threw Záhovar a tortured look and swallowed his disgust. Praktash let out a surprised little hum as Sulmurz returned the kiss and proved to be a rather good kisser despite growling throughout. The Uruk placed his hands on his shoulders to keep them from straying and they continued to kiss until a soft ”ahem” from Záhovar distracted them. Sulmurz quickly pulled away and backed out of his reach, wiping his mouth with a humiliated scowl and darkening cheeks.  
”And..?” Záhovar pressed.  
”All made up,” Praktash replied, sounding slightly out of breath. Sulmurz nodded frantically without looking up.  
”Good. See that it lasts, or there may,” she glanced at Praktash, ”or may not be a repeat.”   
”You,” Praktash concluded, ”are evil!”  
  
  
Time passed, but Margzat did not show up again. After two weeks, Záhovar decided that they had all rested enough and that it was time to move on to Lugburz despite Praktash's protests.  
At the stables, Sulmurz was busy with overseeing the loading of the ghâshgoth's tooth and the artifacts, rare herbs and other valuables they had accumulated during the journey, while Graznikh and Praktash had been sent to the Quartermaster's office to sort out the logistic details of the last step. Záhovar sat at the large desk in the fortress' study, idly reading a report of the current state of Thaurband when an Uruk entered. When she glanced above the paper, she saw that it was Draumaturz.  
”Lug-durbatar,” he saluted.  
”State your business,” Záhovar commanded without looking up from the parchment.   
”Uzhâk's all set'n ready to head out,” he reported.  
”Good. Tell Ghrazagh I want them gathered at the outer courtyard one toll from now.”  
”Will do.” He made no move to leave.  
”Anything else?”  
Draumaturz hesitated for a moment before answering. ”I wanna join your following, if you'll have me.”  
 _That was unexpected._ She carefully placed the paper back onto its tray before giving him a scrutinising look. ”And how would you be of use to me?”  
”Was trained in the nûdrokâtur afore I was recruited to the uzhâk.”  
”I have little use for siege machinery at this point.”  
”Wasn't building those,” Draumaturz said. ”I was with the trap-makers.”  
”If that is indeed true, why did krîtar Margzat not inform me of this when he recruited you?”  
”He didn't say 'cause he didn't know. We were never involved in his line o' command, and orders from up Top were to keep shut about it unless the need came up.”  
”And do I have such a need?”  
”I'd say ya do, but that's not my place so I won't. But... You might be hard to kill, but a tripwire arrow or a pitfall might do what poison can't. To you or others in yer service. Or you might've need for a few traps o' yer own.”  
Záhovar silently turned his words over. Draumaturz waited patiently and without fidgeting. _That explains how he managed to get into Dînhoth's hiding place. With the half-Orc supposedly gone, I will indeed have use of someone with similar expertise._ ”Have you been transferred?”  
Draumaturz nodded. ”Lugburz, garrison five.”  
”Then I shall consider your offer during the journey and give you my answer once we arrive there.”   
Draumaturz saluted again and turned to leave.  
”Before you go; have you seen or heard of krîtar Margzat? I find that he has left Thaurband without informing me.”  
Draumaturz looked back over his shoulder. ”Last I saw, he marched north.”  
Záhovar dismissed him with a wave of her hand. _North? Nûrza-Shuk, or..? Krîtar, what are you up to?_

The return journey was uneventful. After leaving Thaurband, the caravan moved northwest until they reached the pass and great Orc encampment of Nurza-Shûk.   
”Skai, this brings back memories,” Graznikh said with a grin and scratched Akûl's coarse mane. ”You were a downright handful to tame, ya shaggy runt! Now you're all tame'n mellow in comparison.” The warg leered and caught his leg in its powerful jaws, pulled him out of the saddle and pinned him to the ground. Then it gave him a huge lick that left his chest and face dripping with slaver. Sulmurz almost fell off his pony from laughing too hard.  
”Well, thanks a fucking lot!!” Graznikh shouted after he was done spitting. ”Now I'll get all rusty again! This is the worst part o' being a warg rider; yer drool's bloody corrosive!” Akûl only laughed in his wheezy, wargish way and leapt out of his reach when he tried to mount. A not-so-merry chase began with warg bouncing back and forth like an overgrown puppy and rider shouting profanities as he tried to keep up. When Graznikh eventually had enough and barked at him to behave, Akûl laid down obediently and let him mount.  
”'Tame' isn't the word I'd use,” Sulmurz snickered as his sweat- and slaver-soaked commander returned to his side. Graznikh only panted at him to shut up and go fetch a drink, but he did give him a friendly sneer that proved his harsh tone not to be altogether serious. ”Skai, I'm parched... Let's go see if we can find something drinkworthy in this dunghole.”  
They dismounted near the warg pens and slowly made their way into the mess that was the Orc encampment of Nurza-Shûk on foot. There were no ale-houses here; all food and drink was distributed through mess halls that served a few garrisons each. They were conveniently located in a cluster of brick buildings that lay wall-to-wall with the larders, and the feeding area itself lay outside. The place was guarded by Black Uruks who acted as bouncers and broke up any fights that ensued. They had their hands full; with so many restless Orcs and strictly rationed supplies, disagreements over ownership were common and could rapidly turn bloody if left unchecked.  
Of course, Lug-snaga did not care for queues and such. Sulmurz could not keep the smirk off his face as one of the Uruks opened his mouth to tell them off for trespassing only to shut it with a click the moment he spotted their collars.  
”I could get used to this,” he murmured as they pushed their way through the crowd.  
”Don't,” Graznikh replied. ”You'll soon regret wearing that thing once we get to Lugburz'n hafta deal with Top Ones on a nightly basis.”  
”Didn'tcha say we outranked a few?”  
”Aye, but don't expect 'em to remember it for long.”  
”I'd bet I know a few ways to jog their memory...”  
Graznikh gave Sulmurz a sharp look. ”I bloody expect ya to. You're Lug-snaga now; any weakness on your part'll reflect badly on all of us.”  
”Don't fret, I know how it's d-”  
At that moment, Sulmurz slipped on a piece of wood that had been hidden by the ankle-deep mud and landed hard on his back with a 'splat'.  
”As I was saying,” Graznikh commented while choking back laughter. Others were not so subtle; several smaller grunts were howling with mirth as the loudly cursing Lug-snaga tried to get back on his feet and failed. Sulmurz eventually gave up and rolled over so that he could get up on all fours before finding solid footing. He gave the snickering grunts a murderous look and began to scrape the mud off his ruined clothes.  
”Nar, nar,” Graznikh said with a leer. ”Don't just give 'em the evil eye; time to have some fun!” He turned towards the still guffawing snaga, who quickly fell silent as they noticed the pale shadow looming over them.  
”Enjoys yer evening?” he half hissed, half growled in a rather impressive attempt to imitate Záhovar when she was in her foulest mood. ”Having a bit o' a laugh at the expense o' the higher-ups?”  
”Err...” The snagas' nervous eyes darted back and forth between him, Sulmurz and each other. ”W-we jus'...”  
”Let's laugh a bit more, shall we? Make sure to enjoy it, 'cause it'll be the last you ever have!” Graznikh began to move his hands slowly, wiggling his fingers. Sulmurz watched in awe as he began to chant in a tongue that sent chills down his spine. The snaga did not care to stick around and wait for their doom; they squealed and scurried into the now silent crowd. Graznikh stopped chanting and laughed out loud; the onlookers took a collective step back to avoid the 'sorcery'.  
But Sulmurz had not had enough; he darted away and soon returned with one of the struggling Orcs. ”Seein' as ya enjoy mud so much, how about ya acquaint yerself a li'l closer with it?” he said cheerfully and unravelled the whip from his belt. ”This slippery shit's bloody ineffective! Makes everyone move slower. So how 'bout this; you'll dig away _all_ the mud in camp, every last fleck of it. You'll get no food or drink afore this part o' the mess is free of it. Ya might wanna tip us off on the whereabouts of yer fellas too, names'n numbers, otherwise you'll be doin' the work yerself. Heard that?” he shouted at a nearby Uruk. ”Make sure he commits to it; that's a Lug-snaga order!”  
  
”That was mean,” Graznikh grinned as they left the mess hall with their hands and bellies full.  
Sulmurz leered smugly. ”What's the use of a pretty necklace if ya can't pull rank? An' speaking o' mean; the fuck was that nonsense ya spouted back there?”  
”...Just some Elvish words I picked up out west.” _Hravan yë cola endanya raccarya... 'Wild beast who holds my heart in his claws'. If I told her, would she remember it?  
_ ”Picked up quite a bit there, didn'tcha?” Sulmurz commented, oblivious to his chief's melancholic mood.  
”Aye... some stuff I couldn't care less for. Others... whatever. It's all gone now anyway; the Eye razed the place. C'mon, let's go find the others.”  
”Aye-aye, cap'n.”  
Graznikh shot him a glance. ”'Cap'n'? The fuck's that?”  
”'S what those corsairs or whatever they call 'emselves call their chiefs. The brine on the wind jogged my memory.”  
”You sure that's not troll-wind?”  
”What, Margzat bent over when he passed here?”  
That made Graznikh laugh so hard that he lost a bit of food. ”Bloody crazy boatfolk,” he exclaimed once he regained control. ”They gotta be nuts to go floating about in those oversized barrels with all those monsters down below!”  
”Maybe they don't know about 'em,” Sulmurz suggested.  
Graznikh sneered. ”Should tell 'em. I'd like to see their faces when they find out!” Then he shrugged. ”Meh... Probably wouldn't believe it anyway. _I_ sure wouldn't.”  
Sulmurz snickered. ”We could kill one, haul it up on land for all to see!”  
”Are you insane, daft or both? How'd we do that, with catapults?”  
Sulmurz thought it over. ”Those river-Orcs used arrows to catch stuff, ya know, like those giant beavers or whatever they were. They had barbed arrows with strings tied on 'em, an' when they shot 'em into the water they could just haul the catch in.”  
”Sul... Arrows wouldn't even make a dent in that thing.”   
”...How 'bout really _big_ arrows?”  
”Who would fire that bow? A troll?”  
”Don't look at me, it's not my job to fix all the details!”  
Graznikh chuckled at his sulking expression. ”We could always send a note to Kieran or whatever her name was, that tark lass in Ruzh Môraut.”  
”As long as she remember whose idea it was,” Sulmurz muttered.  
”What, you want cred for a _thought_? Good luck signing your name in thin air.”  
”Well, fuck you too!”  
  
  
Meanwhile, Praktash stuck close to Záhovar as she went for a stroll of her own through the encampment. He would have preferred to stay in their lodgings, but when her asking him to follow had not produced the wished-for result, Záhovar had simply commanded him instead.  
The part of the encampment that made up the barracks was more of a ramshackle town, but one that lacked any sign of coordination or planned layout. Any kind of shelter from the frequent ashfalls and random glimpses of hated Sun was in use; there were rickety tents that looked like they were about to run away on their own, lean-tos against boulders that were too large to be moved even by trolls, huts of unbaked clay bricks that slowly melted in the rains which occasionally blew up from Nûrnen, underground tunnels and the odd stone building, all crisscrossed by innumerable narrow, muddy paths. The only road that was somewhat functional was the wide Nurn Road that split the camp in two. It was the only road that was covered with gravel and regularly repaired; for this reason, it saw most of the traffic and was very crowded, even with no caravans in sight. On a sharp cliff to the north, the watch-tower of Ghâshronk could be seen through the hazy air when the wind blew hard from the East.  
”You are quiet,” Záhovar said as they walked.  
Praktash winced. ”Yeah... I can't stop thinkin' about 'Zat.”  
”He did say that he might be delayed.”  
”I know, it's just... I've a bad feelin' about this. Is he transferred yet?”  
”I have yet to recieve a reply. You know how slowly the bureaucracy works at times.”  
Praktash only shrugged. Soon they reached the sparring grounds on the northeastern side of camp; here he stopped and eyed the cliffside. ”This is it.”  
”This is what?”  
”This was the place were 'Zat an' I first...” Praktash chuckled and shook his head with an embarrassed grin. ”He made me spar when we first passed here. I was on top at first, but he beat me in the end. When he had me caught proper, he backed me up against that cliff an'... Well, he kissed me.”  
”It sounds to me as though he had his eyes on you from the beginning.”  
”Yeah... Not that I didn't water at the mouth whenever he turned his back on me! But he seemed like such a jerk, y'know? Never thought things'd turn out the way they did.”  
”Hmm,” Záhovar hummed with a teasing smirk. ”Some might say that you _like_ those types.”  
”I don't!”  
”Is that so? I distinctly recall Sulmurz telling me otherwise when he recounted your mutual trip in Thaurband.”  
”I... He... What?! That little snaga snitch!” Then he caught the amused gleam in Záhovar's eyes. ”You just wanna watch the action, don'tcha? Pervy little Uruk-fancier. Or maybe you wanna _join_ the action..?”  
”I fear our stay in Thaurband has made me comfortable,” she replied. ”Participating in such activities on the road is far from my taste. There will be no more 'fun' before we reach home, if I have any say in the matter.”  
”'If' you have any say? I'm not about to let Graz walk all over ya again. An' I _do_ have a say in the matter! If he knows what's good for him he'll play nicely from now on.” He cocked his head. ”You homesick?”  
”Yes, that I am. Lugburz may be a dark and dreary place, but it is home. I even miss the smell, if you can believe it.”  
”Nope,” Praktash replied with a grin. ”I really can't. That's about the last thing _I_ miss.”  
”What do you miss then?”  
”My distillery an' the steam baths. When I get back, first thing I'm gonna do is sit in a nice, steamy puddle until my skin's all wrinkly an' the grime of the road just peels off me.” He prodded her shoulder. ”Why don'tcha come too?”  
”I have a bath room of my own.”  
”But nothin' like the steam baths. C'mon, don't cry afore you try!”  
”Very well, I shall accompany you.”  
”Great! Perhaps we could talk Graz an' Sully into joinin' us...”  
”Some people simply want to watch the world squirm,” Záhovar commented dryly and smiled faintly as Praktash began to laugh.  
”That makes two of us! I'm still not sure if you were serious with that stunt back in Thaurband.”  
She arched an eyebrow. ”What 'stunt'?”  
”Y'know; the kiss an' the stuff 'bout one of us havin' to leave.” He leered at her. ”You like watchin' him squirm too, don'tcha? I mean, you wouldn'ta picked _that_ kinda punishment if you didn't.”  
Záhovar gave him a glance that mocked innocence. ”Punishment?”  
”Now you're just bein' cute with me!” Praktash snickered. ”Quit tryin' to cheer me up!”  
”If you wish...”   
  
She opened her mouth to say more, but a noise from a side street cut her off. A group of soldiers suddenly charged out, chasing after a smaller Orc that held something tightly clutched to his chest; Praktash yanked Záhovar out of their path just in time to avoid being run down. They were oblivious to the High Officer's presence; the smaller Orc slipped on the muddy ground and fell, and the attackers pounced him as one.  
Praktash helped Záhovar back on her feet. Then he turned to the free-for-all, took a deep breath and bellowed; ”WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN' ON HERE???”  
The Orcs stopped their fighting to stare at him. A few of the larger ones bared their fangs as they prepared to teach the lone Uruk a lesson, but then they spotted the blue-eyed apparition behind him and froze.  
Praktash placed his fists on his hips. ”Well? Out with it.”  
The little Orc crawled out of the fray, whining and bleeding. Then he darted forward and held out the bundle towards him. ”They's been stealin' from th' larders!”  
”What the fuck?!” one of the soldiers exclaimed, an eyeblink before the rest began to protest and shout in an attempt to lay the blame on anyone but themselves. Praktash felt a headache coming on and the collar around his neck tingled strangely. He inhaled again and shouted for them to shut up, and this time his voice _boomed._ Far louder than anything he could accomplish on his own, the force of it blasted the nearest Orcs backwards into their comrades and the little Orc fell trembling to the ground, covering his ears. Praktash himself jumped a little at the sound but tried to look unphased as he waited for everything to calm down.  
”Now then,” he continued, relieved that his voice was back to normal. ”One at a time. Is what he's sayin' true?”  
”Nar!” one of the largest and toughest Orcs snarled. ”We was guarding th' larders, 'n this li'l sneak-thief snuck inside!”  
A chuckle from behind made the large Orc turn around. Graznikh and Sulmurz were leaning against the wall of a mud hut, watching the spectacle with amused leers.  
”Can you believe these idiots?” Graznikh asked Sulmurz. ”They just admitted that they've failed the very simple task of guarding a place that only has one door, and that in the face of a Top One!”  
”'N who th' fuck're you?” the Orc growled.  
”Lug-snaga,” Sulmurz growled back as they sauntered closer. ”Should be enough for ya, if ye're smart.”  
”Great,” Praktash chirped. ”That means I don't hafta deal with this!”  
”Since when did you stop being Lug-snaga?” Graznikh asked him. Then he turned to the little one, who was still clutching the bundle. ”Here; hand it over.” The little Orc obeyed after a moment's hesitation and Graznikh tossed the bundle over to Sulmurz. Then he caught the Orc by the neck. ”If you don't wanna be accused o' thievery, you don't run with a stolen package through the whole camp!! Got it?!”  
The Orc nodded frantically.   
”Good. Now beat it!” He threw the little one aside and kicked his behind to usher him on before turning to the guards. ”And what the fuck're you doing chasing a single thief if you were tasked with guarding the larders?! 'Guarding' something implies staying put at your post, not traipsing through the mud like a bunch o' Wood Elves!”  
”Should... shouldn't we try to catch thieves when we find 'em?” the large Orc asked.  
”Kill him,” Záhovar hissed; it was the first time she had spoken. Graznikh reached for his blades but before he could do more, Praktash's mace had already connected. The Orc's helmet provided ample protection on the top and sides of the head, but the jaw was exposed; blood and other substances spurted out of its disfigured nose and mouth as its jaw shattered from below. The others watched their commander's demise in silence, then stared at Praktash.  
”Anythin' else, master?” he asked Záhovar. She made a dismissive wave with her hand.  
”Right then,” Graznikh said. ”Back to yer posts; party's over!”   
The Orcs turned and ran. Sulmurz nudged the dead body with a foot. ”Skai, that mace's nasty!”  
”At least you're considerin' it,” Praktash purred, wiping the weapon with suggestive moves and began to snicker as Sulmurz groaned.  
”Your dick jokes're getting worse by the toll, buddy,” Graznikh commented.  
”Come on, why d'you think I chose this kind of weapon in the first place? It's perfect!”  
”I am hungry,” Záhovar murmured.  
”From all this talk of cocks, eh?” Graznikh teased.  
”Indeed,” she replied with a leer and clicked her little teeth. ”For _sausage_.”  
Graznikh gave the giggling Praktash an uncomfortable look. ”Can she get any creepier?”  
”What a _lady,_ ” Sulmurz purred.  
  
”Speaking of wishes; did you find Nev-Alisher in Thaurband?” Záhovar asked as they headed back to the stone building that served as lodging for passing High Officers. Sulmurz had unwrapped the confiscated bundle and discovered half a cured ham, which he was now bickering over with Graznikh.  
”Nar,” Praktash replied, ”not that I looked for him. But I didn't see him at the Quartermaster's when I was there. Could be he's in Lugburz, or dead along the road somewhere.”  
”You could ask at the Census Archives when we return. If he made it to any part of Lugburz, it will be registered.”  
”Meh, I'll think about it. Not sure he's the kinda guy I wanna be seen with, really.”  
”You may need to work on that self-conscience. It is not healthy to worry as much as you do.”  
”I need to work on my reputation more. You've no idea what life on the streets is like.”  
”You no longer live on the streets.”  
”But I still associate with folks that do. That makes me the same as them.”  
”If my information is correct, you had a lousy reputation when you did live there.”  
Praktash grinned. ”See, that's the thing; a _lousy_ reputation isn't necessarily bad, not as long as it makes folks fear ya. You need a little of both to get by. Just enough o' the bad to keep 'em from jumpin' ya, just enough o' the good to make 'em seek out your services. An' not try to shirk payment, of course.”  
”Speakin' o' payment,” Sulmurz said after some hesitation, ”do we hafta eat the regular slop in Lugburz?”  
”See?” Praktash told Záhovar. ”You've gone an' spoiled them with all that Officer fare. We shoulda let Zosh cook, that woulda kept them in shape!”  
”From all the vomiting, ya mean?” Graznikh asked. ”Skai, I can still taste her dish from that contest...”  
”Ya didn't taste it,” Sulmurz pointed out.  
”Exactly! It was _that_ bad.”  
Praktash snickered. ”I'll never forget 'Zat's face when Dinner proclaimed her the winner of that thing!”  
”I wonder who planted that idea in his head in the first place,” Graznikh murmured with a grin.  
”I miss that little snaga,” Praktash said. ”I miss 'em both. Think we'll ever see them again?”  
”Perhaps,” Záhovar replied. If there is ever a quiet moment for me as far as duties go, there will be nothing to keep me from going there to inspect that my orders are followed.”  
”An' we could go with ya?”  
”I could hardly go anywhere without my Lug-snaga, now could I?”  
”Speakin' o' Dinner... Think he's dead now?” Sulmurz asked.  
”I _know_ he's dead,” Graznikh replied.  
”Did ya see him go?”  
”I put a _knife_ in his back.”  
”So?”  
Graznikh turned to him with an incredulous grimace and opened his mouth to tell him off, but Praktash interrupted him. ”Y'know, Sully might have a point there. Lucky shot. As far as we know, he was still alive when that horse carried him off. We shouldn't take his death for granted.”  
”I doubt that we need worry about him within the borders of Lugburz,” Záhovar said. ”I recall him telling me about being quite reluctant to venture here.”  
”Coulda been a ruse,” Graznikh pointed out as he threw himself down onto his sleeping mat. ”I'd wager that snake-tounged bastard to say whatever suits his purposes, and we _know_ he was after ya before.”  
”Dachman is dead. He had no reason to come after me.”  
”The important word here bein' 'had',” Praktash chimed in. ”He sure has now; Graz made it personal.”  
”Fine,” Graznikh grumbled. ”Let's all play 'blame the whiteskin'...”  
Záhovar shook her head. ”What is done is done; there is no use dwelling on it. Let us instead look forward and, most importantly, get some sleep. If Dînhoth does indeed dare test his skills against the eyes of the Tower, he might find that he will have far greater powers than mine to contend with.”  
  
  
They did not pass Blog Shakâmb this time. Instead, they took the Mulburz supply road across the western edge of the marshlands of Kirithgal. Although it was the more direct route to Lugburz it was far slower, mainly because it was constantly flooded by hot mud and undermined by frequent earthquakes, making it a treacherous path at best. Both the air and the ground shimmered with auroras and dark rainbows from toxic gas and rock oil. Even the few clear pools were rainbow-coloured.  
”This place is like the worst mushroom-trip I've ever had,” Praktash commented.   
”I think I once puked something that looked like this,” Graznikh said with a shudder. ”How can anything be this colour? Sorcery?”  
”Yup,” Sulmurz replied. ”This is the bagronk o' Blog Shakâmb, where the piss from all dushatâri end up. 'At's what they say in Morigost, at any rate. No wonder the whole place is freaky.”  
”I did _not_ need to hear that!” Praktash said as he accidentally stepped in a squelchy puddle. ”Skai, I'll be glad when this is all over!”  
”Oh aye,” Graznikh mused. ”I'm gonna sleep for a week!”  
”We already have things planned though, don't we master?” Praktash said with a little leer. ”Gonna get us all naked an' sweaty, she is...”  
”Buddy, what _are_ you on about?”  
”Steam baths.”  
”...Oh. Oh _yes_!” _  
_”Whazza steam bath?” Sulmurz asked.  
”You'll see,” Praktash chirped.  
”Chief?”  
”That's cheatin'!”  
”It's like a bunch o' hot springs, only underground,” Graznikh explained. ”No need to dunk yerself in water to get clean, you just sit in there for a while and it melts right off ya.”  
”Don't forget the scrubbin',” Praktash said. ”An' the soap.”  
”Aye, that too.”  
As the wind picked up, the mists of Kirithgal began to dissipate. After they crossed an area where a recent earthquake had shattered the road and riddled it with narrow but deep cracks, Záhovar bid them halt and pointed at a glowing dot far above. ”See; there lies Ghâshkû.”  
”That's the Mountain?” Sulmurz asked.  
”Aye,” Graznikh replied. ”There it lies.”  
Sulmurz winced a little. ”Doesn't look all that special to m-... What the _fuck?!_ ”  
Just as he spoke, a huge eruption exploded out of the summit, sending an arch of molten rock up into the clouds. From where they stood, it looked as though it would land on top of them; Graznikh caught Sulmurz by the belt as he tried to bolt for cover.  
”Relax, ya snaga! We're way outta its reach!”  
”Doesn't look that way to me!”   
He was still cowering when the arch reappeared below the clouds, seemingly increasing in speed and then crashing into the mountainside far away.  
”The wind is at our back,” Záhovar explained. ”Sometimes, an eruption of that size may send smaller pebbles raining down like hail far out upon the plain, and those are just as deadly as the fire. We need not worry about such things tonight, but that is one of the reasons why much of Lugburz lie underground.”  
Some three miles south of Lugburz, the Mulburz road joined that which led to Blog Shakâmb. As the road turned around a bend they finally saw it; wall upon wall, battlement upon battlement, black, immeasurably strong, mountain of iron, gate of steel, tower of adamant; Lugburz, fortress of the Dark Lord.  
”Finally,” Graznikh exclaimed. ”Home, sweet home!”  
Sulmurz stared. ”That place is fuckin' _huge!_ ”  
”I _know!_ ” Praktash exclaimed. ”The Crags've got nothin' on this! Uruk approval!”  
”...Ya just had to turn that into a dick-joke, didn'tcha?”  
”Nothin's too serious for dick-jokes.”  
  
Sulmurz tried to look at everything at the same time as they passed the immense bridge that spanned the chasm before the Tower. Of all the wonders he had witnessed during their long journey, this was the greatest. And there were Orcs, Orcs everywhere, the population in the southern garrisons paled in comparison to the crowd he was now surrounded by. It billowed around him, a veritable sea of faces, parted only by Záhovar's horse. Only now did he fully understand how much power his mistress possessed. He caught one last glimpse of the billowing black pillar that crowned the mountain before they passed the main gate and disappeared beyond the outer walls.  
”Afore I came to Lugburz, I didn't think something like this could be built,” Graznikh said. ”Sure, I'd seen large strongholds'n some tark settlements from far away, but...”  
”Tarks couldn't build something like this,” Sulmurz replied. ”Nar...” He frowned. ”Who _did_ build this?”  
”Orcs,” Záhovar replied.   
”Uruks?”  
”No. Uruks did not yet exist when this place was built. Orcs held the tools that carved the tunnels in the bedrock and chiseled the stone blocks that forms the Great Tower above, all under the guidance of our Master.”  
”But... if this whole place is hollow, how come it doesn't collapse on itself?”  
”It stands because our Master wills it so. His will is all that holds this great realm together, both physically and otherwise. Without Him, none of this would be.”  
”Right... yay for Him then.”  
”...Yes. Quite.”  
  
  
Once horses and wargs were stabled and the Uruks sent on their way to their garrison, Záhovar led her little band up into the Tower proper. Sulmurz kept staring at everything and nothing as they walked for what felt like ages, always up.   
”How th' fuck d'ya find yer way in this place?” Sulmurz asked Graznikh. ”I feel like we're goin' in circles!”  
”We are,” Graznikh snickered. ”Tower'n all that, remember?”  
”...Oh.”  
”We'll go for a stroll once we're settled in, have a look around.”   
”Havin' these helps too,” Praktash said with a tug on his collar.  
Sulmurz frowned in confusion. ”Th' collar? How?”  
”Not sure. Master? How come the collars help us find our way around here?”  
”They do because Lugburz is enchanted,” Záhovar replied, ”as are your collars. Without the collars, the upper levels would be nothing short of a nightmarish maze to you. Only High Officers and Lug-snaga can navigate there, we because the Dark Lord Himself grants us that privilege, you because the collars you wear are an extension of that gift. It is an efficient way to weed out spies and assure privacy.”  
”Hnh...” Graznikh grunted with a sullen expression. ”Here I thought I just had a good nose...” Praktash amiably patted him on the head and recieved a snarl in return.  
Some time and an untold number of stairs later, they stopped at the top of a flight of stairs that led to a long, wide corridor.  
”Well, here we are then,” Graznikh said. ”Home, sweet home.”  
”...Don't tell me we're sleepin' in the corridor.”  
”Of course we're not sleeping in the corridor! Quit being daft!”  
” _You_ quit!”  
”Behave,” Záhovar told them. She strode up to the door to her quarters and held up her palm towards it. It did not move. Both she and Graznikh made several attempts to open it, but there was no response.  
”Try usin' the handle,” Sulmurz suggested and growled as Praktash slapped him over the head.  
”There _is_ no handle, you daft snaga!”  
”Then how about adding one? An' get yer filthy hands off me!”  
”Maybe they didn't get the note?” Graznikh suggested.  
”Oh, 'they' did,” Záhovar murmured, her eyes dark. ”And I believe I shall pay 'them' a visit. Come!”

Three levels down, Záhovar kicked the door open and strode into the office belonging to the Mouth of the Dark Lord with her Lug-snaga in tow. The Lieutenant of Lugburz looked up, or at least she _thought_ that he looked up, from the parchment he had been bent over. ”Ah. You are back.”  
”You are ultimately responsible for the High Officers' living quarters, so I shall presume that you know why the door to mine is still locked,” Záhovar hissed.  
The Mouth sneered slightly and rested his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands in front of himself. ”Yes.”  
Záhovar waited for the rest of the answer, but none came. ” _Why_ is it not open?”  
”Because it no longer leads to your quarters. You have been granted new ones.”  
”I have requested no such thing.”  
”Commands are commands, as you well know.” He stood with some effort. ”Come.”  
The Mouth led them to a part of the Tower that Záhovar did not recognise, not because she had not visited it before but because it had not existed when she left. The stonework was new and no dust had yet settled in the corners. Such changes were often made; the Black Tower was a neverending building project that was constantly added to or remodeled.  
The entrance to Záhovar's new quarters lay on the fifteenth level, in a portion of the Tower that was mostly abandoned. In the outer wall an archway had been carved, leading out into the open air. From it, a short, wide bridge of black steel spanned the immense chasm below; at its other end, an identical archway framed the thick doors that formed the gate to a much smaller tower. Now the Mouth led them across it, seemingly unaware of the harsh wind. The doors opened by themselves as the little group approached.  
”These are your new living quarters,” the Mouth told Záhovar once they were inside. ”Your belongings have been moved here and I have left a drawing of the layout of each floor on your desk. You are of course free to add or subtract from it at will, but I would not recommend doing so without consulting the architect's notes.”  
 _Of course you would not,_ Záhovar thought as she watched him leave. _No doubt you would want to know if I added hidden passages and traps all over the place._ ”Don't tell me this was built in a mere year's time.”  
”Of course not. Its construction has been underway for seventeen years and finished only two months ago when the bridge and archways were added. The only thing left to decide was whom to give it to.” The Mouth gave her the smallest of nods and left. Záhovar watched him cross the bridge before turning away from the door to face her bewildered snaga. ”That went smoother than I expected.”  
”So what happens now?” Graznikh asked.  
Záhovar threw her hands out. ”Now we explore.”  
  
The tower was nowhere near the largest of the smaller towers that jutted out from the walls and parapets of the main fortress, but compared to her earlier abode it was vast. Seven levels rose from the highest parapet of the main Tower's inner wall, connected by a staircase that spiralled up from the bottom floor, curving along the inside of the outer wall; the topmost three floors were the High Officer's living quarters while the second and third floor from the bottom were built more like a garrison, no doubt intended for the High Officer's staff and personal guard. The bottom floor was a storage area and the central floor was a single large hall that was no doubt intended to be used as an audience hall. This was also where the only entrance was.  
”This will cost me a fortune to furnish,” Záhovar complained as she eyed the six thick pillars that carried the hall's ceiling. Her voice echoed a little in the empty space.  
”Ya don't get that from up top?” Sulmurz asked.  
”No. The Tower only provide the roof over our heads and the clothes and basic tools we need to serve it; everything else is considered luxury, even for High Officers. My allowance may be larger than most, but I have no alternate sources of income.”  
”Speakin' o' luxuries...” Praktash drawled, ”mind if I put one of those storerooms to use? Would be nice to have a new crib.”  
”This brings back memories,” Graznikh murmured and snapped his fangs playfully as Praktash leered at him. ”Wanna relive some of the juicier ones?”  
”Right,” Sulmurz grunted. ”Ya do that; I'll be in the other end o' the building, barfin' my guts out.”  
”That you will not,” Záhovar told him sternly. ”There are facilities for that kind of thing in _that_ direction.”  
”We've got our own bagronk?” Praktash asked. ”I'm not cleanin' that out; that's snaga work.”  
”There is no need for any of you to do so,” Záhovar said loudly to be heard over Sulmurz's and Graznikh's protests.   
”Oh,” Graznikh said. ”Well, that's fine then, I guess.”  
”So is there a cookpot too, or will we eat slop?” Sulmurz asked.  
”There are fireplaces on each floor in the garrison,” Záhovar told him while studying the blueprint.  
”'Zat can cook for us,” Praktash chirped.  
”If he comes back,” Sulmurz murmured.  
”What's that, Sully?”  
”Nothin'.”  
”Where ya going?” Graznikh asked Záhovar as she turned to leave.  
”We have only explored four floors as of yet; now I want to see what the upper floors looks like!”  
”That's right,” Praktash grinned. ”We still haven't checked out the most important part!”  
”What, the tip?” Graznikh asked with a teasing grin.  
”Nar,” he snickered, ”the _bed,_ you daft boner!” He punched Graznikh's shoulder as the pale Orc began to laugh.  
”I am surrounded by immaturity,” Záhovar murmured.  
”Nar, you're surrounded by Orcs,” Graznikh corrected.  
”Hey, master?” Praktash purred. ”You really are the Conqueror of the Cocks now, aren'tcha? You even live in one.”  
”Do you _mind?_ ”  
”Nope! Not one bit.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nûdrokâtur – Engineer squad  
> Ghâshronk – lit. 'Fire hall', local name for Nargroth, the northern watchtower guarding the wide pass of Nûrza-shuk. Its equivalent in the south is Morigost. (I'm considering a name change there too, since 'Morigost' is an Elven word)  
> Ghâshkû – lit. 'old fire', Black Speech name for Mount Doom


	3. Back Where You Belong

The three uppermost levels of Záhovar's new tower were quite different from the rest. Where the garrison had one large common room surrounded by store rooms and sleeping cells the High Officer's living quarters were similar to what she had had before, only larger. The first floor above the audience hall was an elaborate dungeon, complete with cells and a few basic restraining devices, mainly chains and shackles. The second floor had a large office, study and dining hall connected to a small kitchen while the topmost had a large bedroom, a lounge, a bathroom, a joint dressing room and armoury and several store rooms. Connected to the lounge was a balcony facing westward from which a small flight of stairs led up onto the flat top of the tower.  
  
Graznikh knelt on the bedroom floor. The mosaic was warm to the touch, no doubt heated by hot water that was pushed up from below by the high pressure. He thought that he recognised the subtle pattern on the floor, but despite the familiarity it took him some time to figure it out.  
_It's the same as the one on her skin,_ he realised. _Skai, they're really not gonna let her forget about that cage, are they?_ He watched her where she stood in the doorway leading to the lounge. Tentatively he reached out to touch the bond; there was a swirl of cobwebs in the back of his mind, but what had once been overwhelming was now too weak to affect him. She felt melancholic, and he thought he knew why. _Don'tcha worry, âmbal; we'll carve this into a place fit for us soon enough._  
”Might wanna put somethin' up to cover that huge hole in the wall,” Praktash said with a nod towards the balcony. ”Otherwise it'll get cold in here if the wind's blowin' hard from the west.”  
”I will place a drapery in the bedroom doorway,” Záhovar told him. ”I doubt more will be needed; here, feel.”  
She walked over to the archway with Praktash close behind.  
”As I suspected,” she said as she held her hand out. ”It is enchanted; see the Maushur runes on the frame? The wind will not bother us, no matter how hard it blows.”  
Sulmurz shuddered. ”So we're surrounded by sorcery? Great...”  
”Not everythin's sorcery,” Praktash said. As he laid his hand on the mattress-less bed, he found that the hard surface was as warm as the floor. ”This is like that bed in Rhûn! An' it looks a bit like the one in Thaurband, only better... Y'sure you didn't know they were buildin' this?”  
”I did write a request to make some changes to my existing bed, but not to build an entire tower!” Záhovar sat down on the bed with a sigh.  
Praktash followed suit. ”C'mon Kafsokhôr... Now we've got room to do stuff, an' you'll get some respite from all those pryin' eyes. Isn't that good?”  
”I suppose... It is only... I was fond of my old quarters. This does not feel like home, and I shall miss having you near.”  
”If ya think I'm gonna sleep down in th' garrison, ye're way off track,” Sulmurz barked. He swallowed a little as he stopped in the doorway and found Záhovar looking straight at him. ”Err... Master.”  
”I'm not leaving ya,” Graznikh said. ”You know that, âmbal. Ain't no splitting us apart again.”  
”An' I'm not gonna sleep down there on the floor when there's a heated bed up here,” Praktash added with a big grin. ”See? Don't worry Kafsokhôr, both you an' your bed'll be stuffed full an' hot more often than not!”  
”Do you _mind?_ ”   
”'Course I don't! Hey Sully! What'cha just standin' there for? Your master needs ya, now hop to it!”  
Sulmurz's eyes darted uncertainly. ”Err... Chin up?”  
Praktash rolled his eyes. ”Do I hafta do everythin' around here?”  
”No,” Záhovar replied with a little smirk. ”Sulmurz? Crawl closer.” When he took an unsure step towards her, she held up a hand. ”Did you not hear me? I said _crawl._ ”  
  
Sulmurz gave her a look that was not quite challenging enough to be openly insubordinate before sinking to his knees. Záhovar's lips curved into a little smile as he licked his fangs and came closer on all fours.  
”This isn't for _you,_ Uruk!” Sulmurz growled as Praktash began to purr.  
”Keep tellin' yourself that, Sully-boy,” Praktash murmured while suggestively running his hand down his abdomen and further. Sulmurz ignored him as Záhovar beckoned for him to approach and he happily knelt between her legs and began to paw her eagerly.  
Záhovar's eyes turned to Graznikh, who winked as he crawled up behind Praktash. ”I'm not gonna dance for ya again.”  
Praktash's eyes widened. ”'Dance'? Seriously, Záza? You made him _dance?_ ” He snickered as Graznikh poked him. ”Quit it, snaga!!”  
”Got something else to poke ya with if you don't behave,” Graznikh purred.  
”Ohh, that sounds _nasty..._ Are you nasty, little snaga?”  
”Oh aye, and I'll get ya back for 'little'!”  
”Later,” Praktash purred and shot him a wicked grin as he rubbed his rear against Graznikh's groin, making him moan. ”First I've got some teachin' to do!”  
Sulmurz perked up. ”What teachin'?” The next moment a warm body pressed against his backside and he spat a curse as he tried to turn around. ”Don'tcha fuckin' _dare..!_ ”  
Praktash jostled him about until he was facing Záhovar again. Trapped as he was between her legs, he dared not flail too much for fear of harming her with his claws. Hot air engulfed his ear as the Uruk leaned in close. ”Now you listen carefully, _little_ snaga; I'm not here to play with ya. Y'see that cunny right there? Tonight you're gonna put your tongue there. You're gonna lick her, you're gonna lick her good an' you're not gonna come up for air until you make her scream that silly name o' yours from how good it feels. Got it?”  
Sulmurz gave Záhovar a pleading look, but she did not see it; Graznikh had pulled her down flat and was cooing sweet nothings at her while nibbling his way across her neck.  
”Mmm,” Praktash hummed in Sulmurz's ear. ”Smell that? Bet you've got a juicy time ahead of ya.” He leaned forward, ignoring Sulmurz's protests, and began to tug on the lacing of Záhovar's trousers. She lifted her hips a little and soon Praktash tossed both trousers and panties over his shoulder. Sulmurz could not help but groan a little as the scent of woman and rut hit his nostrils and went straight to his crotch.  
Záhovar sighed as Graznikh slid a hand down and began to finger her.  
”Feels good, doesn't it?” he murmured. ”You just lie back and enjoy, âmbal; we'll treat ya right!”  
”See that?” Praktash purred. He grabbed Sulmurz's hair when the latter tried to turn around with a snarl and forced him to keep his head in Záhovar's direction. ”Focus! You take a good, hard look now, 'cause this is a lesson; see how he moves those fingers? See what he's touchin', an' what he's _not_ touchin'? Feel how her scent an' breath changes? You keep that in mind, 'cause those'll tell ya if you're doin' things right or not.”  
”I already know how it's done,” Sulmurz snarled. ”Now will ya stop rubbin' that _thing_ up my bum?!”  
”'Thin'g'?” Praktash chuckled. ”Sully, it's a dick. Also known as a cock. Or 'karkû' if you prefer that sorta tongue. You really _are_ a beginner when it comes to this kind of stuff! Nar, quit growling at me an' do! Master's a-waitin'.”  
With some effort, Sulmurz stopped seething and did as told. Gingerly he lifted a finger towards her while taking care to keep the claw out of the way. Praktash caught the hand halfway and before Sulmurz could protest he had taken it in his mouth. He cringed as the Uruk sucked on his finger, leaving a generous coat of saliva behind.  
”Always wet your fingers before touchin',” Praktash instructed. ”That's important no matter what hole you go for. Now give it a try.”  
”Ya sure know how to take the fun outta everything,” Sulmurz grumbled, but fell silent when Záhovar impatiently sat up.  
”Have you done as told?”  
Sulmurz swallowed. ”I-I washed, aye.”  
”With soap?”  
He nodded vigorously.  
”Good... Then perhaps you will enjoy this after all.” She lifted a finger and motioned for him to stand. Sulmurz wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his trousers before obeying. Then she held up a hand to stop him. ”Undress.”  
”...Right! Right.” He quickly did as told, ignoring the Uruk's enthusiastic cooing. Záhovar watched his doings with a lazy smile; having those hungry eyes on his body and knowing what promise they held if he did things right was enough to make his cock wave hello with eager twitches the moment he dropped his trousers. Sulmurz wiped some slaver from his chin.  
When Záhovar finally beckoned for him to approach again, he moved fast. But his knees had only just hit the floor when he caught a movement, too fast to react to, in the corner of his eye. The next moment something connected hard with the side of his head and sent him sprawling.  
  
He might have blacked out for a moment. When he regained his senses, Záhovar was straddling his face and met his confused eyes with a predatory smirk. Sulmurz gave her a meek little grin in return. _What a lady!_  
”Now then, little snaga... Let us see how fast you can learn.” There was an exclamation of surprise from both Graznikh and Praktash at that. Sulmurz whimpered as much in fear as in anticipation. The scent of woman and arousal invaded his nostrils and shut down his brain as Záhovar ran her hands down his chest.  
”I shall play fair,” she told him as she took hold of his cock and made him moan. ”This once. If you displease me, I shall grant you one warning. If you fail to heed that warning...” The fingers that had been kneading the head and sent little tremors of ecstasy up the inside of his spine suddenly curled in beneath the head, nails poised to cut into the sensitive skin. Záhovar might have lacked the sharp claws of Orcs, but Sulmurz knew full well the pain that would come if she made real her threat. He swallowed hard. ”P-please..!”  
”Lick,” she commanded.  
It was not the first time that Sulmurz shoved his tongue into a woman's business, but the last time was years ago and he did not remember what to do. Záhovar used a finger to guide him at first, but after a while he was left to figure things out on his own. The more flawed his approach, the harder the nails dug into his flesh until the pain made it hard to breathe. But when he did things right, she worked his cock and balls with hands and mouth so good that he whined and his hips bucked on their own.  
Záhovar moaned as Sulmurz wrapped his arms around her hips and dug in with a deep, rumbling purr that grew louder as she rewarded him in kind.  
”I didn't teach ya to do that for _his_ benefit!” Praktash complained.  
Graznikh gave him an incredulous glare. ”You _what?!_ Why does nobody tell me stuff anymore?!”  
”'Cause I promised not to, it was supposed to be a happy surprise for ya! An' now she's gone an' spoiled it.” He bared his fangs at Záhovar, who was watching them with a teasing little smile as she licked Sulmurz's cock, causing the latter to whimper and roll his hips.  
”Wish she'd do that to _me,_ ” Graznikh sulked.  
”Let 'em play, buddy,” Praktash purred. ”Come play with me instead!”  
”'Play', izzit? Thought you were all serious'n stuff...” Graznikh tried to get up but froze once he felt Praktash's fangs against his neck. ”Buddy..?”  
Praktash let go and glared at him with black eyes. ”I want you to _fuck me!!_ ”  
That was all it took to start a vicious struggle between the two; despite what he had said, Praktash clearly wanted to play rough. Graznikh finally managed to subdue the frantically bucking Uruk.  
”Will ya quit wiggling?! I can't get it in!”  
”You gotta try harder, snaga,” Praktash growled and licked his fangs with an insane leer.  
”Harder, izzit? How's _this_ for hard?”  
Praktash's groan turned falsetto for a brief moment as Graznikh found the right spot. He tilted his head and licked his fangs with a smouldering leer. ”Gimme all you got!”  
”You say that every time,” Graznikh growled back. ”And every time you beg for me to slow down once I go for it!”  
Praktash's only reply was a mewling moan as Graznikh's claws dug into his hips.  
”That's right, I won't fall for that this time! Gon' gut ya good..!”  
  
Záhovar had Sulmurz stop what he was doing and watched the show instead. Sulmurz squatted on the floor and stared at it with wide eyes. He twitched as she ran a finger along the tip of his ear.  
”You look tense.”  
He looked away. ”'Course I'm tense.”  
”Nothing is being done to you.”  
”Doesn't make this shit easier.”  
”Because of what your parents told you?”  
”'Course he'd tell ya all about it, the fuckin' snitch...”  
”Sulmurz... Is that why?”  
Sulmurz winced. ”...Maybe? 'S not that simple.”  
”Have you considered that they may be wrong?”  
”What if I don't want 'em to be wrong?! My head's been tampered with ever since I started usin' it; I just want shit to stay normal for once!”  
”And how is it normal to feel so disturbed by something that does not harm you?”  
”I'm not gonna spread my arse for that-”  
”I do not ask that of you.”  
Sulmurz paused. ”...Whaddya want then?”  
”I want you to look. Watch them. Nothing more and nothing less.”  
”'M not gettin' off to this,” Sulmurz muttered.  
”I do not ask that of you either.”  
”...Fine.”  
_Just a look,_ Sulmurz confirmed to himself as he raised his eyes to bed-level. _Just a look. I'm not into this at all.  
But ya were once.  
Nope. I'm just hard 'cause she sucked me off. Her mouth's so nice...  
So is his.  
Will ya shut up?!  
Nope._  
Sulmurz tried to remain neutral. He really did. But the harder he tried _not_ to be affected by what was going on before his eyes, the more his sensory organs seemed to focus on it. Every sound, scent and movement seemed to burrow into his skull. Every experience he had had up until now had taught him that being with another man was painful and degrading and that he always drew the shortest straw. The moans, gasps and passionate growls that filled his ears now told a different story; Praktash's face contorted with pleasure as Graznikh sank his fangs into his shoulder while thrusting harder. It was like watching a disaster in the making; Sulmurz could not look away. Blunt teeth teased the tip of his ear and sent pleasant shivers down his crooked spine as Praktash locked eyes with him. Those eyes, black with frenzy and need, seemed to suck him in and pump that inexplicable arousal through his body with every deepening of the creases in the Uruk's taut face. Sulmurz stared, transfixed, as Praktash moaned his name just before he came with an ecstatic howl.  
And without having touched himself even once, Sulmurz came as well.  
He stared at his crotch in shock as he caught his breath. Then he slowly lifted his eyes to look at Praktash. The Uruk laid splayed out on the bed with a big, knowing grin and winked at him. Sulmurz scrambled to his feet and ran.  
  
”You've reached a new fucking low here, buddy!” Graznikh snarled as he pulled out and gave Praktash a hard punch. ”I don't care if you fuck others or even think about them during a rut, but _this?_ Shouting another guy's name while you're fucking _me_ isn't what I signed on for!”  
”Skai!” Praktash gasped and clutched his side where Graznikh had struck him. ”I didn't mean to piss _you_ off! He was just so bloody envious, I had to give him _somethin'!_ ”  
Graznikh frowned. ”Envious? Sulmurz?”  
”What, you missed that? How could you miss it?! He was droolin' all over the place, lookin' at us like he was ready to pay his left leg to get squeezed in between us! _And_ he spunked almost as fast as I did.”  
Graznikh shot Záhovar a look that told her all about his opinion on Praktash's claim. ”Whaddya think?”  
”I... cannot say,” Záhovar replied with a thoughtful frown. ”Once I would have agreed with you, but now? Now I am not so sure.”  
Praktash chuckled softly as he stood. ”I'll go talk to him. Don't worry, it'll all be sorted out soon.”  
”You've got this one chance,” Graznikh called after him. ”Don't make us regret it!” Then he shook his head. ”Stupid, bloody karkû-throkatâr...” He gave his dick a thoughtful look, then glanced at Záhovar. ”Wanna finish this?”  
She gave him an inviting leer and spread her legs wide. When he began to crawl towards her, she stopped him. ”Wash first.”  
”What, now?!”  
”Yes, _now!_ I may be a 'filthy Orc-fancier' but I do have standards and _that,_ ” she waved a hand towards his fluid-riddled groin, ”is far below them!”  
Graznikh let out a profound sigh. ”Poncy Elves...”  
The collar immediately grew cold. ”Excuse me?”  
”Nothing..! I'll be right back.”  
  
Meanwhile, Sulmurz was pacing the main storeroom on the bottom level. Understanding of what had just happened was beginning to dawn on him and with it came the deepest fear he had ever felt. His father's voice, hated though it was, echoed in his mind, reminding him of the natural order of things; man and woman, that was how it was. How it was _supposed_ to be. And no matter where he turned, all he could see was his father's disappointed face, his mother turning away in shame, his siblings scowling in disgust at his lewdness and deviance. _Tears are the only true sign of regret. Cry, and we will know that you feel shame._ But no matter how he pushed, no tears came. There was no way out, and no outlet for the pain save through violence.  
”Sully?”  
Sulmurz spun with a terrified snarl as Praktash appeared in the doorway. There was no mirth in the Uruk's eyes now, but Sulmurz did not see it. ”Stay away from me!!”  
”I'm tryin' to, but you're not makin' it easy for me.”  
”Leave me the fuck alone, ya sick bagshatîgakâl!”  
”Mmm, 'course _I'm_ the bagshatîgakâl. Makin' you the would-be bagshatîgatâr..?”  
”Just get the fuck outta my head, you... you're ruinin' everything!”  
Praktash gave him a warm, teasing smile. ”I know certain parts of you what's been inside certain parts of _my_ head on a number of occasions, but the other way around? Sully-boy, that _must've_ been one of your dirty dreams.”  
Sulmurz's only reply was a wordless shriek of rage. Praktash staggered back with a pained growl as sharp claws shredded the skin on his arms and exposed sides, but he soon regained his footing and subdued the smaller Orc. Moments later, Sulmurz hung against the wall, supported only by the Uruk's heavy body and the knee he had shoved between his legs. No matter how he thrashed and fought, he was securely restrained and there was no way out.  
”So tell me,” Praktash murmured into his snarling mouth, just far enough that he could not reach to bite him. ”Did you think of me often when you fucked her, hmm? Did you take her arse some time, just to see what it felt like?”  
”Nar!!”  
The Uruk chuckled. ”Calm down Sully-boy, I'm not gonna do anythin'. But I'm not too keen on havin' your claws everywhere either; that shit tickles in all the wrong places!”  
”I _hate_ ya!”  
”Sure y'do...” Then he frowned as something dawned on him. ”Wait...” he whispered. ”It's not... It's not _me,_ is it? It's Graz. You didn't wanna take his place back there; you wanted _mine!_ ” Praktash gave him a wide-eyed look. ”You're into _Graznikh?_ ”  
”Nar, I'm not!! I'm not into _anything!_ Lemme the fuck down!!”  
”Oh, Sully... always goin' for mission impossible, aren'tcha? Poor little pup...”  
Sulmurz gasped as the panic broke all dams. _I'm not like this! I'm not like this!! 'Tears are the only sign of shame.'_ But no tears came. And so he screamed instead.  
  
After Graznikh had washed himself, he methodically plucked Záhovar's remaining clothes off her body and shoved her against the side of the bed. He had just begun to thrust in earnest, head leaned against her shoulder, savouring her increasingly pleading moans when Sulmurz's scream echoed up through the tower.  
”Fuck this shit,” he groaned and continued thrusting, but Záhovar made him stop. Graznikh caught his breath for a moment before pulling out with a popping sound. ”I'm gonna murder that Uruk..!”  
Six levels down, Praktash had let Sulmurz go when he began to scream. Now he sat on the floor beside the howling Orc, gently stroking his shoulder.  
”What the everlovin' FUCK is going on down here?!” Graznikh bellowed as he stomped in, still naked. ”I've had more than enough o' your fucking antics-”  
”Will you shut up?” Praktash snapped as Graznikh kicked him away from Sulmurz and forced him to stand.  
”Nar, I won't! What the fuck've you done to him now?!”  
”I didn't do anythin' 'cept pull the plug on all the shit he's kept bottled up inside for far too bloody long!”  
”Why does it even matter?!”  
”It matters 'cause that shit's not normal! Not for us, not for _Orcs!_ He's _sick,_ got it? An' he needs to let it out, otherwise he'll never heal.”  
Sulmurz had stopped screaming, but was still trembling and whimpering. ”Ammî... ammî..!”  
Záhovar had finally caught up. Sulmurz looked up at her with an utterly broken expression as she took Praktash's place beside him. ”Zabathân.”  
”Ruth nênhê,” he whispered. Graznikh paused with a frown. He _knew_ that tongue; it was not Black Speech or any dialect of Orcish, but from some dusty corner of his memory was recalled the foreign sound of Tarkish.  
”Zaur gâ,” Záhovar replied in Black Speech. ”Latûb pâloghamikh.”  
Sulmurz shook his head with closed eyes.  
”You are an Orc,” Záhovar continued. ”There is no need for pretense. Do not fear the shadows, Lug-snaga, for you _are_ the shadows.”  
Sulmurz stared at her for a moment. The tiniest of frowns creased his forehead and slowly spread. Then his face cracked up into a little smile that grew until he began to chuckle. The chuckle turned to all-out laughter and soon he was roaring with it on the floor. Záhovar sat back on her heels with a smirk.  
Graznikh and Praktash watched the exchange with confused frowns. Then Graznikh let out an ”oh!” as if remembering something and began to chuckle as well.  
”Care to explain?” Praktash asked. ”I'm feelin' all left out here!”  
”Get used to it, Uruk,” Sulmurz replied while trying to get his guffawing under control. He shot the smug High Officer a leery look. ”Ya just had to go an' throw that back in my face, didn'tcha?!”  
”Well, I _have_ been waiting for the opportunity for quite some time,” Záhovar murmured. ”How are you doing?”  
Sulmurz rolled onto his back with a sigh. ”I dunno. Better? Maybe? Shit...”  
”What confuses you?”  
”I just... dunno what to do with all this.”  
”I know _exactly_ what to do with it,” Praktash chirped.  
”Keep that to yerself!” Sulmurz snapped. ”This doesn't change anything between us!”  
”Aww, but Sullyyy!”  
”Nar, not... sod off!!”  
”So what do we do now?” Graznikh asked Záhovar.  
” _I_ shall dress and then go to requisition some furniture and other necessities from the Quartermaster, and _you_ will help me carry them back here. With or without clothes.”  
”...Forget I asked.”  
”No, my Lug-snaga,” she smirked. ”I shall not.”  
  
  
Slowly but surely, things were returning to normal, with certain differences. Graznikh stuck to Záhovar's side and tried to hammer all the unwritten rules of the Tower into Sulmurz's head, a task that proved surprisingly easy.  
”I wasn't a Captain fer nothin',” Sulmurz replied with a shrug when he commented on it. ”It's all lick up'n spit down wherever ya go. Only difference is in how hard to do it an' where to aim.”  
They continued with the sparring whenever they had time to do so, sometimes in the aptly nicknamed Tower of Shadow and sometimes in one of the public sparring grounds. Sulmurz was slowly getting better at close combat fighting but no matter how he tried, Graznikh could not give him that final edge. Sulmurz would always be a ranged weapon fighter first and foremost.  
”What made ya pick up a bow in the first place?” Graznikh asked him one night as they caught their breath after a particularly taxing spar.  
”My band had one to spare when I joined 'em after leavin' that colony. They didn't care to lug it around an' no one else wanted it, so I took it. Then I turned out to be good at it.” He grinned as he wiped some sweat off his brow. ”I guess all 'at throwin' stuff at the birds'n cats in my parents' garden paid off.”  
”I guess,” Graznikh agreed.  
”Besides, it's better this way, right? I won't get in the way of those daggers-”  
”Knives,” Graznikh corrected.  
”-Knives o' yours, you get free room to stick'n stab'n I'll cover yer back'n stick folks with arrows. Win-win!”  
”Fine,” Graznikh chuckled, ”as long as you don't stick me too.” He gave Sulmurz a look when he made no reply; he had his head turned away but Graznikh could see that his cheeks were dark. ”I didn't mean it like that.”  
”Whatever,” Sulmurz muttered.  
”...Should we move on to wrestling next?”  
”Will ya shut up?” Sulmurz gave him a sullen look. ”He told ya too, didn't he?”  
”Did you expect my buddy to keep shut about anything to me?”  
”Not really, nar. Not when it comes to makin' my life miserable.”  
Graznikh chuckled at that. ”Gotta say, I'm a bit impressed.”  
”'Bout what?” Sulmurz asked suspiciously.  
”About _that.”_ Graznikh nodded towards his groin and made him shuffle self-consciously. ”Not sure _I_ could get it up after this exercise.”  
”Maybe ye're gettin' _old_ then.”  
”Fit as a fleshfly in a lard tank,” Graznikh retorted and stretched. ”Mark my words, it'll be a long time afore I turn into Ghakû.”  
”I'd drink to that, but there's no booze here.”  
Graznikh paused to give him an incredulous look. ”Why is there no booze here?!”  
”Don't yell at me, I didn't know I should bring some!”  
”Obviously you don't know how to tell when I'm serious or not either. Hop to it, ushatâr!” He drew a blade and brandished it in a mocking display of heroism. ”Onwards, to the alehouse!”  
Sulmurz stared. ”Ye're nuts.”  
  
Graznikh had also decided that it was time for Sulmurz to learn to ride a warg.  
”You can't go bouncing into battle on horseback,” he told him as they made their way to the warg pens. The pens were located one level below the surface near the main gate and were a maze of wide tunnels and thick iron-bar gates.  
”The tarks seem to do just fine,” Sulmurz sulked.  
Graznikh rolled his eyes. ”Thank the Eye you're not a tark. They wouldn't even get near a warg without it trying to eat 'em.”  
”They try to eat _us_ too.”  
Graznikh chose to ignore that comment. He barked for a grunt to bring him the pen master. Sulmurz swallowed a little as the called-for Orc approached; like most Orcs who had worked with wargs for any longer period of time he had numerous large bite marks and his right arm was severed just above the elbow. In place of a lower arm, he had a metal cap held in place with straps across his chest and shoulders that sported a three-pronged whip with tiny steel chains in each end.  
”Bring us the mellowest pup you've got,” Graznikh told him. ”Make sure it's fitted for riding. And bring me Akûl too.”  
Akûl soon appeared, wearing an iron muzzle with chains fastened to it and led by four Orcs. The moment he caught sight of his master he bounded towards him with the shrieking keepers dragging behind. Graznikh looked him over; he had a few new scars, some from the teeth of other wargs and some from lashings, but he seemed fit and in good health and mood. While Graznikh removed the muzzle and ensured his harness was properly fitted, the warg acknowledged Sulmurz's presence with a 'wuf'.  
The pen master soon returned with his intact hand in a solid grip on a warg's muzzle. The warg was almost as big as Akûl, big enough to carry the weight of larger Orcs. It was grizzled and scarred, with fur of a deep chestnut colour with even darker brown stripes.  
”This one's old,” the pen master explained. ”Not fit for fighting anymore, but still strong enough for pulling wagons. Don't bother naming it; the ol' rutter's near deaf.” Then he left.  
”Well then,” Graznikh said to Sulmurz with a grin. ”Giddy up!”  
Sulmurz gave the warg a hesitant look. ”W-weren'tcha supposed to teach me how t' do this?”  
”Best way to learn is by doing. Start by removing the muzzle.”  
Sulmurz stared into the warg's disinterested eyes. ”Err... heel!”  
The warg laid down.  
”...Close enough, I guess. Hey!” he snapped when the warg began to snore. ”I didn't say ya could sleep!”  
Graznikh groaned. ”Maybe it's a bit _too_ mellow.” Then he caught the sound of muffled laughter from a nearby pen. ”I guess if you want something done...” He whispered a few words to Akûl and sent him off.  
After cornering the pen master and his grunts and shaking them down for playing pranks on the higher-ups, Graznikh took matters into his own hands and had soon singled out a suitable warg. He kept his throwing knives ready in case his fellow Lug-snaga's initiation went badly, but Sulmurz managed to one-up his warg by rather unconventional means; during the tumble, he spotted a fleshfly nest far above the gate and managed to hit it with a rock even as he twisted and rolled to avoid getting caught in the warg's jaws. The angry flies sent both Orcs and wargs howling into the relative safety deeper below ground, and after he had dabbed swollen bites with healing salve, the warg had no fighting spirit left.  
”Don't tell me I hafta do this every time I'mma go for a ride,” Sulmurz muttered as they passed the great bridge that spanned the fiery chasm beyond.  
”If you do, warn me first,” Graznikh replied while prodding the painful swelling on his upper arm.  
”These pups have wills o' their own; the better you get to know your warg, the better you'll get along. _If_ you treat it right.”  
  
”I'm sore,” Sulmurz complained as they walked back to the Tower.  
”Quit yer whining or I'll have Praktash smear ya up once we get back,” Graznikh snapped. ”What the fuck did you expect would happen?”  
”It didn't listen!”  
”Nar, because you didn't give it any commands! And pulling a warg's ears won't make it listen more, just piss it off!”  
”It's so much easier with reins...”  
”Like you had an easy time the first time you rode a horse?”  
Sulmurz shrugged, but did not push the matter. From what little he could recall of the event, it had been a particularly painful one. Not because of the horse; the old mare had carried him without complaint despite having no saddle and only a worn old halter on its head with a rope for reins, but he had been forbidden to go near the horses and his father had been furious that he had once again disobeyed. It had not been pretty.  
  
At the main gate, they encountered a problem. The guards had been switched and the new ones had apparently not been informed that Orcs had access to the Tower.  
”Whaddya mean 'can't let us in'?” Graznikh growled. ”Are you both blind?”  
”Those collars could have been forged anywhere,” the gate guard sniffed. ”We should have you thrown into the dungeons for counterfeiting!”  
”How 'bout you counter something else?!” Graznikh reached for his knives, but the guard called for reinforcements and the next moment the Orcs were surrounded by no less than ten guards, all in full plate and with their weapons drawn.  
”Err... chief? This doesn't look good,” Sulmurz commented nervously.  
The chief guard gave them a haughty look. ”So, what will it be?”  
After a moment's fuming, Graznikh resheathed his blades and backed off. ”This isn't over.”  
The guard gave him an indifferent wave with his hand before directing his attention elsewhere.  
After trying at four other gates and getting the same result, Graznikh gave up.  
”What do we do now?” Sulmurz asked as they retreated.  
Graznikh gave the immense structure above a calculating glance. ”I'll try to reach her by other means. But let's not stand out here in the open; looks like an ashfall's coming in.”  
The Orcs hurried back across the plaza and down into the underground city.  
”Let's go for a drink,” Sulmurz suggested. ”I'm parched.”  
”Shut up.”  
”Oi, that's no way to-”  
”I said _shut up!_ ” Graznikh hissed and threw a glance over his shoulder. ”It's too quiet.”  
Now Sulmurz noticed it as well; the wide main street, usually packed with people at this time, was deserted save for himself, Graznikh and five Uruks who walked about a hundred paces behind them.  
Graznikh suddenly stopped and turned to adress the Uruks. ”Got a problem?”  
The Uruks did not reply, but now that their cover was blown they no longer cared to remain discreet. Sulmurz cursed as a sound made him look back in the direction they had been heading; seven more Uruks appeared from a side street. Three more appeared to their left. ”Orders, chief?”  
”Follow me.”  
”Huh?”  
”Shut up and do as I do!” He bolted to the left and headed for the smallest group with Sulmurz and the other Uruks in hot pursuit. He jumped to avoid the incoming blade only to crash into the first Uruk's shield. As the Uruk lifted the shield to ram its edge into his chest, his guard was open to Sulmurz who drove his scimitar into his side. Now Graznikh was back on his feet and countered the second Uruk's mace while Sulmurz hacked the fingers off the third Uruk's hands as he caught the handle of his opponent's twohanded axe on his shoulder and sliced down along its length. He heard Graznikh cry out and followed as he ran up into the alley.

While the Uruks were fast on open ground, their heavy armour meant that they could not climb very well.  
”Did you see any bows?” Graznikh shouted as they weaved through a crate-packed street.  
”Nar,” Sulmurz panted, ”Doesn't make us safe from throwing knives though!”  
”There!” Graznikh jumped and latched onto a ladder that had been carved into the rock. Sulmurz followed suit and roared as he put weight on his broken collarbone. The ladder led into a narrow ventilation channel that took them up one level. No thrown weapons of any kind followed. Once they reached the next floor, they pushed a large, heavy crate over the hole before collapsing side by side.  
”Those guards at the gate were a set up,”Graznikh growled. ”Shoulda fucking known it!”  
”But who did it? That Dachman fellow's dead!”  
”There are worse than Dachman afoot here. Keep an eye'n ear out for spies'n other filth; I need a moment.”  
While Sulmurz perched on top of the crate, Graznikh tried to reach Záhovar and dearly hoped that this attack was not targeting her as well. When he reached out through the bond, however, he found nothing but calm and slight annoyance. She did grow alarmed when he sent her the feeling of being chased and trapped, but he could not make out what she sent back in return. _Skai, these cobwebs make shit fuzzy!_  
  
  
Meanwhile, Praktash revisited his old haunts in the city. Some had closed while he was away, others were run by other faces than when last he visited, but he did his best to establish new deals with the alehouses and restore his reputation as a brewer and drugdealer. His Lug-snaga collar closed some doors but unexpectedly opened others and not everyone had forgotten the redhead Uruk. Soon the customers began to trickle in.  
Against his expectations and beliefs, Sulmurz had begun to warm up to him. He did not trust him enough to let him near or dared to remain alone in the same room, but he did not seem to mind tagging along whenever he and Graznikh went out for a drink. He refused to talk about what had happened in the basement but no longer responded with denial and rage to Praktash's remarks; if anything, he pretended not to hear them most of the time.  
The longer Margzat remained absent, the more Praktash missed him. He also worried, and the more he worried the angrier he grew with him for making him worry. _Just you wait,_ he thought as he sat down in his favourite alehouse, by the scruffy table that was now known as the 'Lug-snaga haunt'. _I've got a word or two for ya when you come back. I'mma shout your ears off! And then we'll fuck._  
The alekeep was one of the larger guys Praktash had seen working behind a bar and also one of the more talkative, walking with a heavy limp due to having had his foot crushed at some point long ago. This particular spot was known for high prices but decent quality without being an Officer-haunt; Záhovar was still Praktash's only exception to his disdain for Top Ones. And a certain krîtar, but that would not last long if he did not return soon.  
He was merrily chatting with the alekeep when the other Orc fell quiet in the middle of a sentence. His expression told Praktash that something was terribly wrong. He began to get up, but stiffened as a giant bulk of armour and muscle sat down beside him and made the bench groan in agony. A warm, spicy scent, painfully familiar, sent a white-hot spear through his heart and made his innards twist into a knot.  
”Long time no see, Bukrazikh.”  
”...Not long enough.” _Fuck!  
_ ”Got a word, if ya care.”  
”Nar, I don't! See ya,” Praktash snarled. Margzat grinned at him as he stood and walked away, emptying the mug before leaving the alehouse behind, oblivious to the alekeep's meek protests that he had not been paid. Praktash's steps seemed to lengthen on their own and soon he broke into a run. He dashed down the street and into a side alley – and faced a brick wall. _This wasn't here last time!_ He looked around for an escape but found none, and slowly backed away from the huge black shape with red eyes that blocked the only way out.  
”Stay away,” he growled and tried not to sound frightened. ”I'm warnin' ya; stay the fuck away from me!”  
”I'm not gon' hurt ya, Bukrazikh,” Margzat rumbled as he advanced.  
”Yeah, I'll believe that when you're not cornerin' me in an alley like this,” Praktash replied and tried to keep himself from trembling. ”I know what Uruks do to snaga; used to do that shit myself!”  
”Izzat so? I'm thinkin' my Bukrazikh still does, now an' then.”  
”I'm not _your_ anythin', so fuck off with that kind o' talk!” Praktash snarled. ”Where the fuck've you been? Záhovar's gonna skin ya alive when she finds out you're back!”  
”I'll deal with 'at when it happens.”  
”More like she's gonna do the dealin', an' you won't like the hand she deals ya! It's gonna be clawed'n armed with a whip or two. Back _off,_ ” he tried again as Margzat closed in. He tried to slip past him but Margzat caught him by the waist and shoved him back against the wall.  
”'Zat-” Praktash began but the krîtar pinned him to the stone with his body and muffled his protests with an Uruk kiss, biting down hard. Big hands grabbed his rear, a huge erection trailed the inside of his thigh and as the split tongue played with his own, Praktash felt his resolve slip. _He smells so_ good, _how can he smell so fuckin' good?!  
_ Margzat let his jaw go and covered his neck and shoulders with delicious lovebites until Praktash felt dizzy with need. Skilled hands sneaked into his loincloth and revealed its contents.  
Praktash gave him a confused look as the giant knelt before him. ”'Zat? What..?” Then his eyes grew round. ”Oh!” He stared in disbelief and amazement as the twin tips of Margzat's tongue danced over the tip of his cock just before he began to suck it slowly.  
”I can't believe this,” he groaned. Margzat chuckled in reply and lifted his leg up onto his shoulder and cupped his buttocks in his hands for leverage.  
”I'm thinkin' if I'm to apologise, might as well do it properly. This here's just the start!” Then he devoured his cock again. Praktash had never been handled like this before; it was like Margzat was doing some odd demonstration of strength while at the same time telling him that all that strength would be used to make him feel good. His knees soon gave out but Margzat supported him; Praktash clawed helplessly at the wall for something to hold onto as the krîtar drove him far beyond all further protest.  
  
Margzat stopped sucking and put Praktash's leg down; Praktash almost sobbed a little as his cock was left all alone, wet and cold. The red-eyed giant leered seductively as he turned him around and Praktash bit his lip in anticipation of what would come next. But it was not Margzat's clawless thumb that started tickling his arsehole next.  
”What the _fuck,_ 'Zat?!”  
Margzat chuckled and his deep, rumbling purr made Praktash jerk forward. But his hips were stuck in the krîtar's vicelike grip and soon he could only moan and hammer the wall with his fists as that incredible tongue repeatedly drilled into his rear.  
”'Zat, stop,” Praktash gasped after a while. ”Stop, I want'cha to fuck me!”  
Margzat stood and gave Praktash's rear a fond squeeze before he turned him around. Praktash could not help but eye the giant between his legs hungrily and Margzat gave him a little show as he covered it with lube, growling viciously and clawing his thighs and lower abdomen, relishing Praktash's ecstatic leer. ”C'mon krîtar, don't hold back; gimme _all_ ya got!”  
”I'm thinkin' I will, at 'at,” Margzat growled. Praktash began to turn around but was stopped. ”Nar, not like that. Face me, Bukrazikh.”  
Praktash did as told with a confused frown. _How's this gonna work?_ Margzat caught his leg and lifted it high; if Praktash had not had a wall at his back, he would have fallen over. He realised what Margzat was planning as he felt the tip of his cock probe his arse and helped him along.  
”Take it easy, will ya? Was a while since last.”  
”Let's make up for it,” Margzat rumbled against his neck. Praktash groaned as the huge intrusion stretched him wide open. Once the tip was well and truly inside, Margzat pulled Praktash's arms up around his neck. ”Gimme a hand here.” When Praktash held on, Margzat lifted his other leg too so that he was hanging onto him, supported only by their arms and Margzat's cock. The krîtar stuck his tongue out as Praktash gasped.

Slowly but surely, Praktash was impaled by his own bodyweight. It was hard to believe; Margzat was back, he wanted _him_ back and he took him back in this particular manner... He felt dizzy just thinking about it.   
”Oohh, you're really gonna fuck me like a snaga, aren'tcha?”  
”Nar,” Margzat growled. ”Gon' fuck ya like an Uruk!”  
Praktash whimpered and blinked away the tears. _Fuck! I don't wanna cry now!_ Then Margzat began to thrust and he couldn't care less about anything but that feeling. It did not take long for him to come good and hard.  
”Havin' a good time, Bukrazikh?” Margzat chuckled and licked spunk off his face.  
”Fuck yeah,” Praktash breathed. He whimpered as Margzat withdrew. ”Why d'you stop?”  
”I'm thinkin' we should finish this someplace better.”  
”What's wrong with here?”  
”Got other things I wanna do to ya,” Margzat purred. ”Things better done in private. Whaddya say?”  
”Lead the fuckin' way already!”  
Praktash retied his loincloth with shaking hands. He stumbled and fell but Margzat caught him and lifted him back onto his feet. Then he ruffled his hair and chuckled as Praktash tried to bite him.  
”So where've you been?” Praktash asked breathlessly as they made their way up through the city. ”What happened in Thaurband?”  
”Here'n there. When we reached Thaurband, I finally got it into my head that 'at was it; I was gonna get collared, no way out. An' I panicked. Not proud o' it, but 'at's how it was. So I ran.”  
”Stupid as shit move... Záhovar was real pissed. You shoulda told her; she wouldn'ta forced it on ya.”  
”Said'n done's said'n done...”  
”Well, I might be able to talk her outta skinnin' ya alive,” Praktash said with a grin. ”But you'll probably be scrubbin' floors an' doin' laundry for a few months.”  
”I'm fine with 'at,” Margzat chuckled, ”'s long as I get to play now an' then. Like now...”  
Praktash snickered as Margzat's claws tickled his rear. ”So you're back now? For real?”  
”'Course. Got plans for us now, Bukrazikh! Big ones...”  
”Bigger than your..?”  
Margzat's only reply was a rumbling laugh.  
  
Praktash and Margzat entered the garrison where the latter had been placed, playfully shoving each other back and forth as they went. When they reached the krîtar's quarters, Praktash threw himself down into the pile of strawbags and rubbed his back against them with a contented purr. Margzat sneaked down behind him and began to remove his armour. Praktash's purr deepened as big hands slid up inside his cuirass, claws pricking his sensitive hide.  
”Time to get ya back where ya belong,” Margzat rumbled and licked his ear. Praktash closed his eyes with a delighted sigh as the krîtar's teeth caught the skin behind his ear and clamped down hard. Once he was free of armour and clothes, a powerful arm snaked around his chest, holding him tight. As he opened his eyes again, he looked straight into lady Gîrakûn's smiling face. Praktash had never screamed like he did at that moment.  
The witch straightened up and nodded. ”Finish it,” she said calmly before leaving the room.  
”Nar,” Praktash whispered and gave Margzat a panicking glance. ”You can't be serious!”  
”I'm sorry Bukrazikh,” Margzat whispered as he got to his feet, dragging him up as well. Praktash desperately tried to pull free, but Margzat nearly crushed his ribcage in a bear hug.  
”You can't do this 'Zat, you can't be fuckin' serious!” Praktash howled. ”You said it was us! It was fuckin' _us!_ I told ya what that place did to me, I told ya! You _can't_!!”  
Margzat did not reply. Another Uruk entered holding a rag drenched in a strong-smelling liquid and brought it up towards his face. Praktash tried to bite him but the Uruk's fingers dug into his jaws. The cloth was pressed hard against his nose and mouth and no matter how good he was at holding his breath, a time must come when he failed. One breath later, all went black. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup... Shit's about to go down.
> 
> Ammî – Adûnaic, mother  
> Zabathân – Adûnaic, humbled (Sulmurz' old name)  
> Ruth nênhê – Adûnaic, lit. 'scar upon me', I am scarred/ruined  
> Zaur gâ – Black Speech, lit. as are we all  
> Latûb pâloghamikh – Black Speech, yours are not worse


	4. The Bloody Fortress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to see the inside of Blog Shakâmb in all its gritty glory, and if you thought Gîrakûn could not get any worse... think again. There will be surprises. None of them will be consensual. You have been warned.

When Praktash regained consciousness, he was securely bound, gagged, naked and shackled upside down to an iron pole carried by two unfamiliar Uruks. Margzat ran in front of them; Praktash could see the back of his head every now and then. He tried to pull free but to no avail; the shackles could have held a troll. As much as he tried to keep his fear in check and remain level-headed for the trials to come, he could not keep the flutter of panic out of his chest as the bleeding cliff of Blog Shakâmb came into view.

A short while later they passed the Trench. This time there were no funny jabs or bad jokes, just an eerie silence broken only by the sound of running feet, hooves and the creaking of armour. They moved through it and passed the windy plateau in front of the castle. Praktash began to cry silently as he saw the gate pass by. His imagination was already weaving horrid images from his memories; the invasions, the rape, the torture, the experiments with drugs, sorcery and worse. A nightmare from which there was no escape.  
In the keep courtyard he was unshackled from the pole and had his hands and feet cuffed instead. He kicked and screamed and tried to run, but a vile liquid that he recognised as a sedative was forced down his throat. Soon he could barely stand up on his own; it felt as though his brain had been filled with wet wool. Strong hands dragged him indoors and through an unknown amount of hallways, doors and stairs, down, always down before they finally stopped. He was dimly aware of voices, someone touching him, looking him over. Then he was made to lie down and the sound of a door slamming shut was heard before he passed out once more.  
  
  
When he came to again, he was in a terribly familiar cell. He had spent the larger part of his life in or near it. Praktash cried. And cried. And cried. The tears seemed never to end; every time he looked up at the bars and walls, the memories returned and with them the fear and he would bury his face in his hands again. Everything he had said and done, everything he had fought for, all over. Everyone he had cared for, gone. The sweet freedom he had tasted turned to ash. All because of Margzat.   
_I trusted him. I gave him everythin'! I told him things I'd never told anyone except Graznikh, an' he held me an' said it'd be alright! He said it was_ us _! I fuckin'_ trusted _him!_  
The dungeon was dark. Not that it mattered; he could see all too well in the dark. The outline of the examination table at the end of the corridor, the shelves filled with vials, bottles, jars and torture implements, the shackles and chains on the wall. There were three other cells in there, one in each corner of the large room, all empty save his. Two of them were little more than cages with walls of iron bars and a door of the same material. The third, the one he was lying in now, was a little more sheltered with three walls made of stone and the fourth made of bars. The last cage was an isolation cell that was simply called the Box; a solid box of iron that shut out all light and sound while still permitting enough circulation of air for the prisoner to breathe. Praktash had spent much time within that cell; it was where he used to be put when the witch was displeased with him but not in the mood to play. The only way out of it was through agony of a kind that left you unable to think, feel or function as a sentient being for weeks afterwards.  
The place was dry and kept meticulously clean; there were not even any rats or insects that could break the deafening silence. Dread fluttered through his mind like little corpse-white butterflies every time the numbness of learned helplessness waned. It did not matter whether he slept or stayed awake, whether he moved or not, whether he ate or starved; another nightmare was always waiting for him, hidden in the next moment of trackless time.  
  
After an eternity, the silence was finally broken. Approaching footsteps left whispering echoes in the dark and soon, someone knelt outside the bars of the cell. Praktash stared into the wall and refused to acknowledge the disturbance.  
”I've missed ya.”  
He did not know why the whisper struck such terror in his heart. The panic made him lightheaded for a moment as he slowly turned to stare at his own miscoloured mirror image. ”Who are you?”   
”I'm your brother,” the amber-eyed mirror image whispered.  
”Like fuck you are,” Praktash hissed. ”I've no brother; I don't know _anyone_ in this place!”  
”But you do. You just don't remember.” The amber one leaned his cheek – Praktash's cheek – against the bars and gave him a loving look. ”I can help ya. Comfort ya. Come.”  
The cell was not very large. Praktash had to push himself up against the wall to avoid the amber one's hand as he reached through the bars to touch him.  
”If ya wanna help me, then get me outta here!” he growled.  
”You'll get out,” the amber one said, his voice the husky purr of lust-induced compulsion. ”Our Ladyship will help ya. She'll come.”  
”That's no bloody 'help',” Praktash whimpered as despair dug its claws into his chest. ”That's a nightmare made flesh!”  
”It's agony,” the amber one whispered with a deranged smile. ”It's ecstasy. It's _everythin'._ You'll remember. I'll help ya!”  
”I don't _want_ to fuckin' remember! Piss off, you're just makin' it worse!”  
”It'll be good. Better than you know.”   
Praktash swallowed hard; it sounded like a promise. Then the amber one spoke again and his eyes widened. ”What'd you fuckin' call me?”  
”Khayri,” the amber one murmured, pressing his lips against one of the bars with closed eyes. ”Kaelun and Khayri, together, inside us, inside _her_...”  
”Kaelun? Nar...” Praktash whispered. His voice rose to a terrified scream as the memories washed over him. ”Nar, nar, NAAAR!!!”   
”My sweet brother,” Kaelun murmured and gave Praktash a seductive little smile. ”Come to me, I'll help ya. I'll comfort ya. Come...”  
”Go away,” Praktash sobbed as he curled into a ball in a corner. ”Just go away, leave me be, _please!_ ”  
Kaelun did not leave. He sat still, hugging the bars, and watched his 'brother' cry in silence.

Another eternity passed before more footsteps approached, this time cushioned by velvet slippers and iron-studded leather. Praktash knew the sound all too well and prepared to fight for what was left of his life. The moment the door was unlocked and swung open, he used the wall for leverage and leapt at the witch with a battle roar. He was caught in mid-air by two Uruks and smashed back against the wall.  
”Do be mindful!” Gîrakûn snapped. ”This is a precious one.” Praktash kept snarling and fighting even as he was dragged out and strapped to the wall with thick leather cuffs around his wrists, ankles, waist and neck. Gîrakûn only smiled at him, the kind of smile one would expect from a kind grandmother. But Praktash was not aware of the existence of such people; he would have pissed himself out of fear if he had not taken a leak just before she arrived.  
”So,” she said. ”My little Khayri is back in its pen, and Kaelun has got its brother back. Are you happy, Kaelun?”  
Kaelun gave her an almost ecstatic smile. ”May I go to him? Please, my Ladyship!” Gîrakûn nodded.  
”I've no brother,” Praktash growled, ignoring Kaelun's hands on his body and the hurt gasp that followed his words.  
”Oh shush,” Gîrakûn scolded gently. ”Not a week has gone by without the poor lad asking for you and this is how you repay it? I shall have to teach you some manners, I think.”  
”Teach this, bitch!” he snapped and spat at her. The spittle hit an invisible wall and evaporated. He felt Kaelun trace the scars on his chest with light fingers.  
”Yes, I know,” Gîrakûn said. ”First we shall have to remove those horrid markings upon your face. You look like you came straight from the Desolation!”  
”Perhaps I did,” Praktash snarled with a deranged leer. ”I've been stickin' my cock in every snaga arse from here to Udûn an' back again, you sure you wanna touch this after all that?”  
”Yes, you have had quite a bit of adventure, haven't you?” she commented with a sly little smile. ”I'm so glad you have regained your spirit; we did hit a few pinches last time. Let's start over fresh; I promise I shall be more thorough this time.”  
”There's nothin' fresh about you, ya prune-faced globatish!” he snarled and snapped his fangs towards her face. ”Your pet's gonna have to do better than last time if you wanna succeed at this; I'm tougher to please now!”  
”Is that how you want it to be?” Gîrakûn whispered. ”So be it. But who said that Kaelun would do the touching?” She snapped her fingers and Praktash's eyes widened as Margzat entered the cell. _Nar..._ He was under such heavy compulsion that his eyes were completely dead and his face slack. There was simply no 'Margzat' left, only a hollow shell. Praktash could not help but howl.  
”'Zat,” Gîrakûn said, savouring her plaything's seething over the abuse of the beloved nickname. ”Pleasure your 'bukrazikh' for me. Break his will.”

_Lose your body but not your soul. Fall but do not falter. Split in two and remain steady in that which is_ you. Those were the words Záhovar had used during that very first lesson when she began to explain how to beat back a compulsion spell. She had used them again when Graznikh succeeded in overcoming his own. Now Praktash clung to those words with the strength of one who had nothing to lose as Margzat's oh so familiar hands began to caress him. _It may be over, but I'm not goin' down without a fight._ He put every last drop of his will into resisting the spell and distancing himself from the situation, but his beloved krîtar's warm, spicy scent filled him with every breath and the memory of his closeness assaulted his every sense, amplified by the lust-fueled compulsion that slowly crawled through his body until it took him over. As Margzat drew close he sank his fangs into his chest, but the giant Uruk did not take note. Praktash wriggled but to no avail; soon he groaned into the krîtar's flesh as his clawless thumb invaded his arse and began to tease the special spot inside, just as the split tongue kneaded the tip of his ear.  
Gîrakûn did not rush it; she had no reason to and savoured Praktash's futile struggle. She let out an almost childlike giggle as he began to cry when Margzat's lovely hands that knew him so well began to tug his cock at that perfect pace that always did the trick. Just before he lost it, Praktash lifted his head to look into his krîtar's empty eyes.  
”You'll remember this,” he gasped. ”If there's anythin' left of ya in there, you'll remember! You'll never forget an' you'll never forgive yourself. Nor will I...” With that he let go, came hard, and fell into that familiar darkness from which there was no escape.  
  
  
Záhovar's black horse thundered across the bridge that spanned the chasm outside East Gate, followed by Graznikh and Sulmurz on wargs. Sulmurz had practiced hard at riding them and now he managed to keep up with Graznikh and Akûl with ease.  
When Záhovar had received the news of Praktash's disappearance, Sulmurz had almost thought she would tear the entire tower down in her rage. She had met up with them down in the streets and marched straight to the barracks where the remaining Uruks had confirmed what she somehow already knew; that Praktash had been taken by the witch.  
Graznikh had been no better; he had berserked three times in a single toll and Záhovar had been of a mind to leave him to it the last time until Sulmurz had, while cowering to avoid her wrath, managed to convince her otherwise. Now they rode hard eastward, ready to do a two-Orcs-and-one-Officer-assault upon the ancient fortress. Sulmurz was not keen on the Uruk but Graznikh had told him what awaited Praktash if they did not get him out of there. Or rather, shouted it in his face. Sulmurz had no delusions about his skills at diplomacy and was not going to argue with his chief when he was like this, so he had gone along with whatever they came up with. Seeing Záhovar skin an Uruk alive with her steel claws had been a big influence on his decision as well; he was _not_ going to mess with that temper!  
  
Once they reached the courtyard in the inner keep, Záhovar went straight for Gîrakûn's quarters, shadows springing to life all around her.  
”How dare you?” she hissed in the witch's face after kicking the door in. ”How _dare_ you steal my snaga like this?!”  
”'Steal?' That is a very strong word,” Gîrakûn protested mildly. She poured a glass of mead and offered it to Záhovar, who knocked it out of her hand. Gîrakûn's eyes grew hard as it shattered against the floor. ”Do not be foolish now, girl. You do not have the strength to challenge me martially, least of all here. That Uruk was never yours to begin with; surely you must have recognised my handiwork after all your tumbles with Kaelun! I have been searching for this particular specimen for quite some time and your interference was little more than a nuisance. You asked for Kaelun; take it. Enjoy it. But the other one was and is _mine_. I would release it only if our Dark Lord Himself commanded me to.”  
”You have not the authority! He is _my_ Lug-snaga!”  
”But it was not _I_ who commandeered this. The Mouth and I went to our Master; _He_ commanded the Uruk's transfer. Will you question _His_ authority?”  
Záhovar was taken aback. ”No,” she said reluctantly. ”But... Why was I not informed beforehand?”  
”The Mouth feared that you would take matters into your own hands and stall the process. Was his assumption wrong?”  
”I... cannot refuse the Eye. But the order should have come from Him and been relayed by me, not some untitled nobody down in the barracks and without my knowledge!”  
”Since when did you begin to care so much for protocol?” Gîrakûn asked with a smile. ”Orcs; fetch us something to drink.”  
”Since you began to act like you are the Dark Lady of Lugburz,” Záhovar spat. ”Orcs; stay where you are!” Sulmurz had begun to take a step towards the drink tray, but froze when Záhovar spoke. Graznikh had not moved.   
”So that is how you want it to be?” Gîrakûn asked casually. ”You always did hold your snaga too close.” The air suddenly grew charged. Graznikh and Sulmurz felt nothing more than a light breeze but Záhovar smashed into the wall between them with such force that she broke several bones. Gîrakûn looked mildly surprised and Graznikh bellowed as his master fell, but a hard tug on the bond kept him from berserking. However, nothing could keep him and Sulmurz from shielding her with their bodies as the witch approached.  
”Step aside, creatures,” she said calmly. ”I have already proven my point and have no further wish nor reason to harm your master. I can, however, heal her wounds. If I do not, she will die.” She smiled at the snarling Graznikh. ”You can feel this, can you not?”  
No matter how much Graznikh wanted to shove his knives down her throat and up her cunt simultaneously and watch her bleed out while he pissed in her face, he knew the witch was right. Záhovar was clinging desperately to life, slowly but surely leeching his strength while bleeding to death from inside. If nothing was done, they would both die or worse and Praktash would be left alone. He could not let that happen.  
  
No matter how he tried, Graznikh could not feel any tampering with the bond or with Záhovar's mind as the witch worked. It was a slow process and the pain was intense as bones regenerated and internal wounds closed, not quite too fast for the body to cope with but nearly. Graznikh was soon down on his knees, shaking and panting as he struggled to keep from giving Záhovar too much of his strength and kill himself. Sulmurz kept pouring ghâshpau into his mouth and serving Gîrakûn whatever she requested.  
”Ya fuckin' sewer rat,” Graznikh weakly growled at him. ”You wanted to be Lug-snaga; grow a bloody backbone!”  
”An' what the fuck'm I supposed to do?” Sulmurz growled back. ”I'm not cut out for all this dushatâr-shit, might as well make myself useful!”  
”Clever lad,” Gîrakûn mumbled absently to herself. ”Perhaps she does have taste, after all.”  
Graznikh bit back a caustic retort and settled for a growl.  
Eventually the witch let go. ”There; I have done what I can. Her body must do the rest. I would not move her in this state, but I am loathe to leave her in here, or you for that matter. But do be careful; her bones are not yet set.”  
”Why the fuck did you attack her if you didn't wanna pick a fight?” Graznikh snarled as he gingerly picked his unconscious master up.  
Gîrakûn gave him an amused smirk. ”The spell was not aimed at her, it was aimed at _you._ The little fool used her shield as a funnel and redirected the force at herself. A clever move, though it nearly killed her.” She gave him a scrutinising look. ”You are more than just snaga to her, aren't you? But never mind; since I made the first move, she now has an opening to attack me in return, should she wish to do so.”  
”So there's nothing stopping me from killing ya right now?”  
”But there is; your master has not yet commanded you to. Remember your place, Lug-snaga; you have no freedom to act on your own.” She stood and carefully brushed the wrinkles out of her robe. ”Now, if you would be so kind as to remove yourselves and your tattered master from my chambers? I have work to do.”  
  
Gîrakûn gave Záhovar the same guest quarters as she had the last time she stayed there. The place brought bad memories, but she accepted it nonetheless since she had more important things to argue about. Both Graznikh and Sulmurz forgot the matter at hand for a while as they explored the suite and gave the bed some longing looks, but Záhovar refused their pleading purrs and badly veiled invitations. There was no way she would be able to enjoy their attentions, not even if she had been hale enough to partake. Not in this place. She had not even the resolve to remain in those chambers for long; as soon as she was well enough to do so, she left the depths of the fortress to roam its streets instead, always flanked and shadowed by her Orcs.  
She had not seen Kaelun at all so far, and it both relieved and concerned her. Was he dead, or had Gîrakûn locked him up someplace and intended to deceive her by pretending that he was? Had Praktash met him and if so, did they recall each other?  
”I guess you don't know where she's hiding him?” Graznikh asked while Sulmurz placed the blanket he had been tasked with carrying over her shoulders. High up in the foothills as they were, the wind was cold and dry and bit through clothing and armour alike. The snow on the mountaintops was stained a dark grey by the ashes that were carried up from Gorgoroth on the wind.  
”If I was to make a guess, then I would say the dungeons where she conducts her personal studies and experiments,” Záhovar replied and gave Sulmurz a grateful nod. ”They lie beyond her private chambers; no doubt you saw the door when we were there, though you may not have thought much of it. But I know not how to open it.”  
”So we're screwed?” Sulmurz asked. ”We're just gonna leave him?”  
”Of course not! I will not relent; perhaps I can barter with her somehow, buy his freedom.”  
”Just don't fucking kill yourself while you're at it,” Graznikh whispered. ”We bloody near lost ya once already.”  
”We dunno what she wants him for yet,” Sulmurz pointed out. ”Could be she just wanted to take yer toy to prove she can do it. What?” he asked when Záhovar and Graznikh glared at him.  
”Praktash's no bloody toy!”  
”Nar, but... Skai, ya know what I mean!”  
Graznikh snorted, but then he nodded. ”Aye, you got a point. No point in jumping into the fray afore we know what we're facing.”  
”Oh..!”  
  
Both Orcs spun to face the threat; Záhovar settled for a condescending glance. Four young women in novices' robes had stopped by the corner and were staring at the Orcs with mingled disgust and apprehension. Záhovar recognised one of them as lord Dâurinzil's daughter.  
”Kirân,” she said as she turned towards them. ”I see your long wait finally bore fruit.”  
Kirân stepped away from the group, but not before throwing one of the other women an apologetic glance. Záhovar thought it odd and filed it in her memory in case it would be of use later. The woman looked familiar somehow, but she could not place her.  
”Lord Záhovar,” she said and curtsied. ”Yes, my father pretty much sent me packing after you left. He still hasn't told me why he changed his mind.” The look in her eyes told Záhovar that she had a fairly accurate guess. ”What brings you to Blog Shakâmb?”  
”I have business with lady Gîrakûn,” Záhovar replied, deciding to ignore the girl's impertinence in meddling in a High Officer's business, even if it was only with a question.  
”I guess your journey north went well then?”  
”It did indeed. But I am glad to be back home; I find it hard to function properly without regular hot baths.”  
”Couldn't agree more,” Kirân replied with a grin.  
”And how go your studies? Have you had the opportunity to visit Lugburz yet?”  
”No, not yet. When I don't have studies I have chores. Never a dull moment... I heard we might get some time off by the end of the year though, if our results please the masters.”  
”Then I wish you luck. Do write to me if you make the journey; I should very much like to speak with you at length, if I have the time.”  
Kirân curtsied.  
”Aren't you going to introduce us?” the woman Záhovar took note of earlier asked.  
”Of course,” Kirân replied. ”Gîr-Anui, this is lord Záhovar, a High Officer I met in Ruzh Moraut. Lord Záhovar, this is my mentor, Gîr-Anui.”  
As Záhovar studied the woman, shre realised where she had seen her features before. _So Gîrakûn has blood-kin here? That is unexpected... and useful._ ”Gîr-Anui... Are you an aspiring engineer, like Kirân?”  
”Sorceress,” Gîr-Anui replied. ”They say I'm talented.”  
”You would not be here if you were not. Talent can be a burden as well as a blessing; I wish you the best of luck in living up to the expectations.”  
”Lord Záhovar studied under the Ladyship herself!” Kirân told the others. ”She even went to Lugburz at our Master's command to tutor her!”  
Záhovar made no outward sign of acknowledging the information, but quietly took note of the girls' reactions. Most of them looked impressed, awed and a bit envious; Gîr-Anui pretended not to care but that only made Záhovar more aware of her. Graznikh discreetly sniffed the air and the bond told her that he sensed competition and a threat.  
”Is it true that you're intimate with Orcs?” she suddenly asked, smirking. The other women gasped at her audacity; Kirân mostly looked disturbed and embarrassed. ”That you take them into your bed? Lord Dachman says you do.”  
”Said,” Záhovar corrected her.  
The woman frowned, having clearly expected another response. ”What?”  
”Said. Dachman's slander finally caught up with him.”  
Her eyes widened. ”What happened?!”  
”He disobeyed. An assassin was sent after him. As for the outcome... I am sure you can imagine it.”  
Gîr-Anui seemed shocked. Then her face twisted in fury. ”You horrid, wicked beast! You killed him, didn't you?!”  
Záhovar watched with a slight smirk as Gîr-Anui threw her arms up towards her; Graznikh and Sulmurz stepped in and shoved her backwards, nearly felling both her and the others as she tumbled into them. The air tensed and Záhovar quickly threw her shield up, but there was little need; her untrained adversary was astonishingly weak. Her attack was a mere sputter of raw magic that failed before it had even reached the shield.  
”Focus and calm,” Záhovar scolded her mildly, her voice that of a patient teacher speaking to a distracted child. ”If you intend to do battle in this manner, you need both. A sorcerer with an agitated mind is one already defeated.”  
”Orc-fancier!” she spat, making both Graznikh and Sulmurz explode with mocking laughter.  
”Look out master!” Sulmurz snickered. ”We've got a gal what can use bad words over here!”  
”'Orc-fancier'!” Graznikh imitated in a high-pitched voice. Then he continued in his regular voice: ”Might wanna be careful where you fling such words, little Rhûnlander. We might get the idea that you're envious.”  
”Think she bleeds while at it?” Sulmurz leered. ”Think she'd struggle? I kinda like it when they wriggle...”  
”Are they not simply adorable?” Záhovar asked the appalled young women. She gave Sulmurz an affectionate scratch behind the ear and elicited a fond purr. ”My Lug-snaga are correct; if you wish to offend me, you need far sharper words. You may be Gîrakûn's offspring, but that does not shield you from her ire. I shall refrain from bringing this up with her, but only this once. Should you dare to insult me again, I will not be so merciful. The only reason I do not retaliate now is because you are so far from being a threat to me that taking your life would only be a waste of time and energy. And believe me; there are far worse punishments than death.” With that, she swept them by. Before leaving, she turned to adress Kirân.  
”Choose your company carefully,” Záhovar told her. ”Your father's patronage may be enough for now, but once you leave your novicehood behind, you may find that your studies require additional funding. That door may be open or closed to you depending on the choices you make early on.”  
Kirân nodded mutely.

  
The witch did not return in person after that first time. But Praktash could still _feel_ her, fluttering through his mind, tugging and pulling at his senses through the threads of compulsion. He still fought of course, but there was nothing to fight against. Despite being painfully aware of the unnatural presence within, he could not grasp or repel it. Now the nightmares were worse, because there were times when he grew hard from the horrors. As a first step in 'restoring' his looks to what they used to be before he took to the streets, the witch had removed all the piercings from his face and now he had to wipe spit from the holes in his lips every now and then. What was worse, she had forbidden him from touching himself.  
  
Kaelun's was the only face he saw; he emptied the bucket that served as privy and brought him water and food; a tasteless but nourishing gruel that was the everyday fare for the witch's 'pets'. Both were laced with drugs and as much as Praktash tried to starve himself, the hunger and thirst soon overwhelmed him and he wept as he ate. Kaelun remained long after he had finished his meal; he did not say much and often did not reply or even react when Praktash asked him questions, but for some reason the insane little Uruk seemed to yearn for his company. He did murmur about a 'Worship' every now and then; broken sentences that made little sense. If anything, it made Praktash fear the future even more.  
The combination of drugs and compulsion eventually broke his impulse control. Soon he writhed on the cold stone floor, his body burning with a need that was both his and not his at the same time. Kaelun lit up as he fell; no doubt the witch had bade him wait for this moment.  
”Come brother,” he whispered against the bars.  
Praktash stared at the outstretched hand that he knew would both sooth and destroy him. ”I don't wannaaahh...”  
”I can help,” Kaelun murmured. ”I know how!”  
There was no resisting that siren call; in a surreal haze, Praktash felt his body move on its own. His brother smiled as he took his hand. Praktash pressed his loins against the bars and groaned loudly as Kaelun's soft mouth wrapped itself around his cock and began to suck vigorously. Then it was like a dam broke inside; Kaelun let out a choked sound of surprise as Praktash caught his head in both hands and kept him steady as he impaled his throat. He thrust mindlessly, bellowing out his ecstacy. It felt so good, so wrong, so _good_... Then his consciousness spun as he came and collapsed.  
The moment he let go, Kaelun doubled over and retched hard. Praktash felt like a monster when he saw his battered face; there were two black welts on each side of his face where it had been pressed against the bars, his lips were bruised and swollen and he bled from the corner of his mouth and where the string underneath his tongue had torn. Despite the abuse, he still gave Praktash a loving smile once he had stopped throwing up.   
The sight made Praktash feel even worse.  
”I'm sorry,” he whispered. ”I'm so sorry...”  
Kaelun scooched closer and petted him tenderly. Praktash reached through the bars to return the favour and Kaelun let out a shuddering sigh. Praktash started a little; despite the abuse he had suffered, he found him hardening. _'Course he's hard... Compulsion doesn't give a shit how much pain you're in._ ”You want some help with that?”  
Kaelun nodded, his eyes already feverish, and Praktash quickly got up and positioned his face near the bars. Then he let his brother do as he pleased. It was no more than right after what he had done to him.  
Kaelun snapped out of the compulsion the instant he came; he yowled in raw terror and Praktash pulled him close before he could hurt himself. His 'brother's' tears broke his own resolve and they clung to each other through the bars, two terrified little shadows in the deeper dark.

A silvery white wisp appeared through the wall, near the ceiling on the far side of the room. Praktash froze. ”What the fuck..?”  
”Wraith,” Kaelun whispered without looking. ”They come for the pain.”  
”Wh-what do they do?”  
”Nothin'. They just are.”   
The little wraith was weak, weaker than the one Záhovar had summoned down in the desert. It had no shape of its own but kept shifting and bobbing as it moved through the air. Kaelun turned around and held a hand out towards it. Slowly it responded, drifting closer; for a brief moment it took the shape of a hand with thin, slender fingers that intertwined with his; then it melted through them and wrapped itself around his wrist briefly before moving up along it. Praktash shuddered as it floated down his shoulder; despite it seeming to glow, his skin was as dark as before and he could not feel the little wraith at all. It was as though it was not truly there. _An' it isn't, not really,_ he realised. _It's in the Wraith-world.  
_ ”You can see it too,” Kaelun whispered.  
”Yeah,” Praktash replied.  
”You couldn't before.”  
”I guess I changed a bit out there.”  
”Out where?”  
”Outside. Y'know, out in the real world.”  
”This is...” Kaelun trailed off and closed his eyes.   
Praktash eyed him; he seemed different somehow, but he could not pinpoint how. ”Are you... You? You're not under..?”  
”She's asleep,” he whispered back without opening his eyes. ”It goes away a little while she sleeps. That's when the wraiths come. They go away when it comes back.”  
Praktash shuddered again. ”I don't wanna stay here,” he whispered, more to himself than to Kaelun. ”I wanna leave!”  
Kaelun frowned. ”Why?”  
”Whaddya mean 'why'? Don'tcha wanna get outta here?”  
Praktash felt a cold tremor run down his spine as Kaelun shook his head. ”I only want what she wants. _When_ she wants. The rest isn't real.”  
”That's not true,” Praktash snarled, even as the tears began to flow from his eyes again. ”It's not true an' one night I'll fuckin' prove it to ya!” The wisp that now hovered over Kaelun's head seemed to quiver in response.  
Kaelun did not speak again, but leaned his head against Praktash's shoulder and held him as he cried. They remained like that, touching in silence until they both fell asleep from exhaustion.  
  
  
Záhovar healed on record time thanks to the witch's sorcery and Graznikh's support, and a week later she stood in Gîrakûn's study once more.  
”May I speak with him?” Záhovar asked.  
”Why prolong the inevitable?” Gîrakûn asked sternly. ”You are not going to wriggle out of this anyway; better to get it over and done with, the sooner the better.”  
”That is not for...” Záhovar began to hiss but fell silent.  
”...Me to decide?” Gîrakûn filled in with a smile. ”But you know that it is. Did you think you could outsmart me, girl? I am sorry to disappoint you.”  
”What is it you need him for?”  
”There are certain larvae that are-”  
”Larvae?” Záhovar's lip curled in disgust.  
”-That are highly sought after by sorcerers and alchemists,” Gîrakûn continued, unphased by the interruption. ”The adult parasite itself is extremely rare; I have only ever been able to locate and acquire a single specimen and it took years for me to figure out how to make it breed.”   
”But why Praktash? Have you not enough slaves to abuse?”  
”You do not seem to understand. Even to this very moment, 'your' Uruk is the only known host. The parasite has rejected all others.”  
”So you mean to infect him with this... thing? And then what, have him eaten alive from the inside?!”  
Gîrakûn laughed. ”Oh, nothing so dramatic! If that had happened the first time, the Uruk would not still be here, would it? Don't worry, it will not take any permanent damage. Well, that depends on how much it struggles, of course. But the parasite itself will not cause any harm, on the contrary. And it will not infect it, only breed it.” She smiled a little. ”It can be quite entertaining to watch. Shall I describe the process?”  
 _'The first time'? How many times have you subjected him to this?_ ”Will I need a bucket for this?”  
Gîrakûn only smiled and opened a book bound with thin iron sheets and black leather.  
  
”I will kill you,” Záhovar hissed afterwards. ”At some point in time, I will kill you for this!”  
Gîrakûn chuckled. ”I have lost count of the number of people who have wanted me dead and tried to have me killed! You are neither the first nor the last. Yet here I am and they are rotting in the ground or haunting my halls as mindless wights. That does say something about your chances of success, does it not?”  
”It does indeed,” Záhovar replied with a suddenly impassive face. She was trapped, as was Praktash. There was no way she could save him from this fate without openly defying the Dark Lord. _I failed him. I promised to protect him and I failed._  
”If...” She had to stop and take a deep breath to steady her voice. Gîrakûn waited for her to continue with a kind, patient smile. ”If we are to continue with this... Then I have one last request.”  
”Humour me.”  
”I want krîtar Margzat to watch as well.”  
Gîrakûn arched an eyebrow. ”Is that so? Why?”  
”That is between him and me. Agree to this, and I will no longer stand in your way.”  
Gîrakûn gave her a good-natured smile. ”You never stood in my way, girl. I allowed you this weakness because, despite all your flaws, I still consider you the daughter I never had. Very well; your idea has merit. Go fetch this krîtar; he is down in the barracks near Third Gate. Could you bring two Uruks from the same garrison as well? I daresay the host will need some encouragement on its way to the chamber.”  
  
As krîtar, Margzat had the luxury of having a small chamber all to himself. Ever since the witch let him go, he had spent most of his time in there, doing his best to drink himself into oblivion. Now he sat on a strawbag, head against his knees, suffering the resulting headache combined with waking up from yet another nerve-wrecking nightmare. No matter how he tried to ignore and forget, the image of Praktash's pleading eyes as the compulsion wiped out his self returned to him over and over. To question was to fail, but even so he could not help but ask himself why. Why had he obeyed the Ladyship's command? Why had he pledged himself to the strange little High Officer and then betrayed her in the end? Why had it been so easy to betray _him_ , the only one who had never taken him for granted? _An' why the fuck do I care so much?_  
He opened an eye when he heard the door open and looked up at Záhovar. He had seen her enter the fortress a few nights before, riding like a fury through the streets. Knowing all too well why she had come, he struggled to get to his feet and prepared to die. The High Officer waited until he had gotten up and saluted her weakly before she spoke.  
”You will choose two of your subordinates and follow me. Pick strong ones.”  
Margzat nodded with a nervous look at her impassive face and called two other Uruks to him as they passed through the garrison. _So it's to be a public death by torture then. No more than I deserve._ He followed her out of the garrison and up towards the main keep. Margzat frowned when they did not go to the executioner's block. Knowing that he could not be worse off than he already was, he decided to risk an unpermitted question.  
”What's this about?” he rumbled.  
”I want you to see the consequences of your actions.”  
A cold knife twisted in Margzat's gut at her words. ”He's... dead, then?”  
”No. But he will soon wish that he was.”  
  
  
Kaelun eventually left Praktash to the silence and the timelessness. Praktash had begged him to stay; simply hearing the breathing of another living being had helped keep the nightmares at bay. Now he whimpered into the cold stone as the memories assaulted his sanity once more. He remembered everything now; the renewed compulsion and Kaelun's broken whispers had brought it all back. How many times had he not buried his face in that black mane as he cried, and how many times had Kaelun not done the same? How many times had they not lain close together, whispering to each other in the dark, repeating each others' names like a mantra and tried to recall what few memories they still clung to of the world beyond the dungeon's walls? How many times had they not fucked madly as the compulsion-induced arousal became too intense to bear? How many times had they not been forced to hurt one another in one of the witch's sports? Kaelun was right; they _were_ brothers. Not because they came from the same womb or pit, but because they had shared the same fear, the same agony, the same pleasure. They were brothers not by virtue of any shared ancestry, but by tears, blood, spunk and bile.  
Despite his younger looks, Kaelun was the elder one; he had been in there much longer and Praktash had been modeled in his likeness. He remembered next to nothing of the world outside, having been snatched away from it when he was barely dry from the pits. He had helped Praktash keep what little sanity there was to be had in this place of all fears and they had clung to each other both in body and spirit; not because they had anything in common beyond their looks, but because there had been nothing else. Two Uruks without a pack, irrevocably changed so that they could no longer belong to one, apart from that which they had right there, beyond bars of iron and insanity.   
The witch had, of course, been fully aware of their mutual affection and abused it mercilessly. How many times had they not cried against each others' shoulder as much in shame over what they had done to each other as in pain and distress over what the witch had done to them both? But now there was nothing left. What little there had been of the real Kaelun had been lost to the compulsion and now there was nothing left in him but carnal hunger and madness. A little voice in Praktash's head kept telling him that it was his fault; after all, he had betrayed and abandoned his brother by ticking the witch off so much that she had had him thrown out. It told him that if he had not been so weak as to let himself get topped by a snaga, Margzat would never have turned against him. It told him that what Margzat had done was only fair; Praktash deserved every last bit for what he had done. And he cried out his shame and self-loathing as much as the loss of his life, a love he had no words for and a brother he had not even remembered until now. When the Uruks came to take him away, he did not resist. _'Cause I deserve it all._  
  
Gîrakûn led Záhovar and Margzat into some kind of observation chamber. Along one wall, a cloudy but transparent glass screen had been installed, showing the interior of a larger chamber on the other side, its walls lit by the slowly pulsing shine of ghostlights. Margzat gave the screen a suspicious look but said nothing. The circular chamber beyond the screen appeared empty, but Záhovar suspected that their eyes were simply deceived. Gîrakûn sat down in a comfortable armchair and offered her some refreshments which she declined. _As if this was some Khandian pleasure outing,_ she thought, sick to her core.  
Margzat was largely ignored, for which he was grateful. _The consequences of my actions, indeed. An empty room? I'm thinkin' this can't be all there is._ A heavy steel door in the far corner of the chamber was opened with a creak. _Sound travels real well through that crystal-thing._ He watched as the Uruks he had brought along when following Záhovar threw Praktash in through it. Then it slammed shut and he could hear numerous bolts and bars closing. Praktash shook his head as he sat up. A movement from above caught Margzat's eye, and he suddenly had to steel himself not to flee in blind terror. _Oh, fuck._  
  
Praktash hit the ground hard and groaned a little as he tried to sit. One glance towards the ceiling made him leap to his feet with a squeak and he broke into a run before he had even regained his balance. A soft clicking of talons was heard from above. But this was no spider. Praktash ran like a madman around the room, fleeing nowhere from a fate he could not escape. It was inevitable; sooner or later, he would fall.  
It was over the moment he stumbled. His leg was caught and the chamber spun as he was hoisted into the air as though he was weightless. He screamed, kicked and punched to deter his captor but to no avail; soon his arms and legs were stuck in a crushing grip by four huge, too slender hands with bony fingers and he hung in a sitting position in mid-air, arms above his head, legs spread wide.  
”Please...” he pleaded. ”Don't _do_ this!” The myriad of dull, dead eyes above, like those of a fish but without pupils, seemed to welcome him home. Praktash began to cry hysterically.  
  
Margzat was unable to tear his eyes off the scene beyond the glass. ”What the fuck _IS_ that thing?!”  
”There is no name for it in the Common Tongue,” Záhovar replied faintly. ”The Elves of old called it a larmarauco; flesh demon, though I doubt that any memory or description of it remains in their knowledge. It took shape in the Dark Days to prey upon them, in the twilight time before the Enemy was aware of their awakening. I know no more than that; I was not even aware of their existence until... recently.” She shot Gîrakûn a venomous look. The witch sipped from a cup of mulled wine, watching the grotesque scene before them with obvious enjoyment.  
”Oh, do calm down,” she said in an admonishing voice as Margzat began to hammer the screen in a futile attempt to reach through it. ”Do you think that you would stand even the slightest chance against that creature? And your racket in here will only...” Her smile grew a little wider as her eyes returned to the scene below. ” _Encourage_ it.”  
Margzat stiffened and fell quiet. Záhovar felt ill. _I will kill you._  
  
  
”You done kickin' the shit outta that pillow soon? I'm trying to sleep here,” Sulmurz grumbled.  
”Not yet,” Graznikh replied. The pillow that he had been taking his frustration out on had been shredded by his claws, spewing feathers now with every punch. Graznikh did not care for the pillow's feelings; he had to hit _something_ , if only to keep from berserking as he felt Záhovar's emotions through the bond. ”I'm gonna kill that bitch,” he growled. ”I'm gonna make her scream, I'm gonna... Graahh!”  
The door opened. Graznikh reached for his knives but stopped when a willowy, amber-eyed, black-haired Uruk wearing nothing but a black silk loincloth, tied low around his hips and adorned with pearls of amber glass, entered and stopped just inside.   
”Praktash..?” Sulmurz breathed, eyes bulging. ”The fuck'd they do to ya?!”  
”It's not Praktash,” Graznikh growled. Sulmurz had disbelief written all over his face, but Graznikh recognised the Uruk from Záhovar's memories. He saw nothing of the lust-crazed creature that she had faced; the slender creature looked at them with wide, insecure eyes. If anything, he looked a little lost.  
”Kaelun, right?” Graznikh said with a nod. ”Heard about ya.”  
Kaelun gave him a shy look. ”What are you?”  
”I'm Graznikh, and that's Sulmurz. We're Orcs; like Uruks but a little different.”  
”I... thought... Why are you here?” Kaelun spoke slowly, as if it was difficult for him to hold an unexpected conversation and as if he did not quite remember what to say, or how to say it.  
”We're waiting for our master,” Graznikh explained and gave Praktash's near identical twin a friendly grin. ”She's off with your master on some Officer business and told us to watch her stuff. Looking for her, are ya?”  
”Her?” Kaelun asked. ”She has a name? _Has_ she a name? No...” He shook his head and frowned.  
”' _Does_ she have a name',” Graznikh helped out. ”Aye, it's Záhovar.”  
Kaelun's eyes met his and Graznikh caught a brief flicker of that madness that Záhovar had let him see through her mind.   
”She's here?” Kaelun asked, his voice a throaty whisper.  
”Like I said, she's off on business.” Graznikh cocked his head and stepped a little closer. ”Tell you what; why don'tcha stay here and wait with us? Záhovar'll return here once she's done with the w- I mean, with your master, then you can tell her whatever ya wanna. _Do_ whatever ya wanna.” He took another step and placed an arm around Kaelun's waist.  
”My Ladyship'll be wantin' me after,” Kaelun said hesitantly. Graznikh shared a glance with Sulmurz and shrugged. Then he kicked Kaelun's legs out from under him, caught the lithe Uruk and tossed him into bed.  
  
From a gash in the man-like torso, a writhing bunch of thin, purplish-red tendrils tumbled down on him with a wet sound and Praktash let out a panicked sob. Within moments he could no longer move anything other than his hands, feet and head as the tendrils wound around him. They quivered and undulated as they moved, like inch-thick tongues with four little fingers at the tip, leaving slimy trails on his skin. The stench was overpowering and he quickly turned his head to the side as his stomach forcefully emptied. He coughed and spat to clear his mouth, then let out a half-choked, shuddering sigh as a few of the little tentacles began to explore his sensitive ears, pinching and coiling around them, wet tips tracing the folds inside. His reaction brought a metallic chittering sound from above. Others slithered across his face, lapping at his teary eyes and soiled lips. He bit down hard and squeezed his lips shut even though he knew it was pointless; one of them found a nostril and quickly slipped down his throat, forcing his mouth open from inside. The tendrils were surprisingly strong despite their frail appearance. He did not doubt for a second that the one in his nose could poke a hole through the back of his head had the beast wanted to do so. Biting was pointless too; despite their flexibility, the tendrils were rock-hard beneath the slick membrane.   
More tendrils slid over his body, prodding every dip and curve of his muscles. One found his navel and drilled into it so hard that he thought it might damage his internal organs, but it withdrew at the very last moment. Then he drew a deep breath and held it as his teeth were forced open.  
Praktash had never told anyone where he had acquired his phenomenal breath-holding skills and gag reflex control. 'Practice' did not even cover half of it. Several tendrils pushed past his lips and dipped deep into his throat, twisting and searching. His mouth was forced open to the point where he thought his lower jaw would come loose and he could neither breathe nor retch even though his body struggled to do both. Eventually they withdrew when they did not find whatever they were searching for and he coughed and snorted to get the foul-tasting slime out. Right then, one of the tendrils found his arse and slipped inside with a hard jab that made him cry out. If it had not been so slick with slime it would have torn him badly. More of them quickly went the same way and Praktash groaned as they invaded him, writhing and bunching inside and stretching him far too fast for comfort.  
”Graznikh,” he moaned. ”Záhovar! 'Zat! Anyone, please help meee-aaahh!!”  
The monster bent what passed for a head down towards his face. Praktash screamed in horror and tried to turn his face away as the little mandibles with their needle-like fangs twitched and chittered just above. From the spaces between the mandibles emerged something that looked like black Mannish hair; thin, soft feelers that brushed his face and upper body with movements that in another situation might have been soothing. Praktash could no longer see anything but feelers as they covered his face, but he did not need to.  
The four-fingered tips of a tendril were tugging and nibbling along the edge of the foreskin of his semihard cock. He knew full well what would happen the moment his cock hardened and he wriggled and screamed for mercy, all in vain.  
  
”Hey!!” Sulmurz exclaimed as Kaelun nearly landed on top of him. Graznikh dove after and started licking and playbiting the Uruk's neck and chest. _If what Záhovar and Praktash've told me about lust-compulsion is true, then this should work like a charm._ True enough; Kaelun clutched the sheets and moaned as if Graznikh was fucking him hard when the Orc ran his claws down his abdomen and wrapped a hand around his cock.  
”If ye're gonna greet every last bastard with a cock that comes in here like that, I'm leavin'!” Sulmurz growled.  
”Then you'd have to come back later and you've got a cock too,” Graznikh chuckled. ”Nar, get back here, I'm just joking! This is business, nothing else.”  
”Business for you, perhaps,” Sulmurz retorted and pressed his hands to his ears. Graznikh's ministrations soon had the intended effect; Kaelun came with a howl. Graznikh kept stroking him until the little Uruk writhed and squealed from sensory overload. The moment he stopped, Kaelun shot up with wide eyes. Then he burst into tears and began wailing loudly.  
”That shit's just fucked up,” Sulmurz murmured.  
”None o' that now,” Graznikh said. He gave Kaelun a light slap. ”Listen; I broke your compulsion, but it won't last long. I need your help with something.”  
”I can't do anythin'!” Kaelun gasped through the tears. ”I'm nothin', I'm-”  
”Shut _up!_ You've got this one chance at peace; fuck her. Fuck yer mistress well and good tonight. I want ya to make her squeal, can you do that?!”  
Kaelun gave him a look of utter confusion. ”Have to.”  
”Good,” Graznikh growled with a bloodthirsty grin. ”We'll handle the rest. Don'tcha worry, Záhovar's coming for ya. Now scram, afore the compulsion makes you do something you'll regret.”   
Kaelun swallowed hard; he twitched and trembled as he picked himself up from the bed. He looked completely broken. Graznikh followed him towards the door and gently pushed him out. As Kaelun turned to look at him, the compulsion took effect again and he gave him a demented leer.  
”Remember now; fuck her hard,” Graznikh instructed. ”Do her good or she'll throw ya out like she did to my buddy. I heard her say so myself.”  
”Khayri wasn't thrown,” Kaelun said as he walked away with smooth, almost snakelike movements. ”He was taken.”  
Graznikh frowned a little. _Khayri? Taken?_ Then he slammed the door shut and leaned against it, breathing a sigh of relief.  
”Skai, that was thrilling,” he groaned with a disturbed grimace.  
”Are ya fuckin' insane?!” Sulmurz growled. ”The fuck was that good for?”  
”It means her shields'll be down tonight. It's real hard to focus on keeping spells up in the middle of a rut; the more of a distraction, the easier it'll be for Záhovar to break 'em. And then we'll break _her_.”  
  
A new kind of dread entered Praktash's mind as the jolts of pleasure intensified. Slime was dripping from his nether regions; it was not just there for lubrication but also to sedate and sensitise the monster's victim and it worked like a charm. Every spot of his skin where it had been smeared, including the insides of his mouth and nose, tingled and his eartips felt as though they were still being probed. It felt obscenely good. The tendrils inside his rear had found the center of pleasure and a few of them were kneading it eagerly, like a bunch of slender tongues were competing for the perfect spot. Others were pumping into his rear at a steady pace and Praktash could only moan as he succumbed to rapturous pleasure. He felt sick for enjoying this, but how could he not? Even the scent that he had previously found so repulsive turned his brain to mush with every breath, making it impossible to think. If anyone from the outside world had done something like this to him, he would gladly have sold his soul to the one responsible. As it was, he felt insanity hammer on the door to his mind, demanding to be let in as he looked up into the dead eyes of Rape itself.  
  
He felt something stick to his lower thigh and there was a slurping sound from below. He weakly tried to struggle again, howling as the suckling sensation moved ever further up his thigh. He did not have to see it to know what caused that sound; a thicker, stalk-like tentacle that sported a deep, tubular cavity in the end with a fleshy, muscular ring around the opening. Inside it was a needle-thin tendril with a slightly thicker lump at the tip that moved independently of the rest. The 'tongues' inside his arse impaled him deeper than Margzat ever could and the others wrapped themselves around his lower body, forcing his hips to remain still. The one on his cock held it in place and slid off only when the hollow tentacle had fully engulfed it. A desperate, frantic scream left his mouth as he felt the tiny tendril probe the very tip of his cock and slowly slide _inside_ it until it reached the same spot that got probed through his arse. Then the true torment began as the parasitic terror began to breed him.  
The tube suckled his cock to keep it stiff while the thin tendril slid in and out rapidly. Every time it withdrew, a small egg was deposited into the lump at its tip and then shoved into his prostate one by one. The tendrils in his rear became even more insistent, wiggling and nudging as they moved the eggs around inside him.  
It hurt, oh sweet Darkness how it _hurt_! But at the same time, every time the egg depositer punched into his prostate, his groin and lower abdomen exploded with insane pleasure. It was agony, ecstasy, the sweetest and most invasive torture he had ever experienced and ever would. Praktash thrashed until his skin rubbed raw in the monster's hands; he screamed and screamed until his vocal cords broke and mindlessly snapped his fangs so hard that he shredded his own lips from the inside and nearly bit his tongue off before some of the tendrils invaded his mouth to keep him from harming himself further. But there was no escape.  
The ordeal went on for what felt like an eternity as the monster packed his insides full of eggs at an agonisingly fast pace until he could take no more. Despite the intense pain, fear and revulsion, he was so close to spunking that he could feel his arse muscles clench, but something kept him from reaching the peak. But then, _finally_ , the egg depositer stopped moving inside him. It remained inside his cock as the suckler around it began to move instead and the tendrils in his arse wiggled in a different pattern. Within moments he came over and over, so hard that his toes curled, his thighs cramped and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. A gurgling, bloodsoaked scream erupted from his throat as he convulsed, but not a single drop of spunk passed the obstacle inside. As the invasion left his body with a slurping sound, he thought he heard Margzat roar from far away, but it was probably just his imagination.   
The feelers that covered his face and neck became snares that abruptly cut his screams off. White-hot pain bloomed about his neck as the Beast's mandibles rapidly pinpricked the skin, followed by an icy sensation when the venom was injected. Blessed unconsciousness rose to claim him as the feelers withdrew and he was slowly lowered to the ground.  
  
  
Záhovar had no idea how she managed to remain upright, or keep her emotionless poise for that matter. A single, treacherous tear slid down her cheek, luckily on the side which Gîrakûn could not see. Margzat had collapsed with his forehead and hands against the glass screen; he was rocking back and forth slightly. Irregular gasps and dry sobs escaped him every now and then.  
”Well then, the first part of the process is complete,” Gîrakûn said cheerfully. ”Did you learn something?”  
”Enough,” Záhovar replied in a cold, distant voice. ”What happens now?”  
”Now we wait. The eggs should hatch within a week or so, then the larvae will be ready for extraction in another four to five weeks. You are, of course, welcome to stay if you wish. There are many interesting projects here that-”  
”Extraction?”  
”Oh, don't worry; they will come out on their own. We must only be sure to catch them all when they do. They can be quite fast, and every single one is worth a small fortune! This will be of great use to the Academy.”  
 _Fortune. Process. Use. Entertaining. I will_ kill _you!_  
”Ah,” Gîrakûn said as she opened the observation chamber's door and spotted Kaelun standing outside, looking lost. ”Come, dear lad. I believe it is time to retreat.” The compulsion-riddled Uruk lit up as he spotted her. Then he recognised Záhovar and his expression turned completely deranged.  
Gîrakûn smiled. ”You remember Záhovar, do you not? Be a good lad and greet her properly.”  
Kaelun walked up to Záhovar with smooth moves and stopped so close to her that she could feel his breath on her face. ”Welcome back, my Worship,” he whispered, meeting her gaze with heavy-lidded eyes.  
”Thank you, Lug-snaga,” Záhovar replied, ignoring Gîrakûn's amused snort. ”Be gentle with me,” she continued as Kaelun lifted his arms to touch her, unsure if he would obey. ”I have been injured and am still sore.” Kaelun seemed to do so; as he snaked an arm around her waist and began to adoringly trail her jawline with a finger, he moved as if she was made of blown glass.  
”I am glad to find you unharmed,” she told him. ”How have you been since last we met?”  
Kaelun met her eyes, obviously eager to answer but unable to do so.  
”Answer her truthfully,” Gîrakûn said eventually.  
”I've been in pain,” Kaelun whispered. ”So much pain. I wanted to please my Ladyship, to worship her, I _needed_ to, but you wouldn't let me. You _hurt_ me.”  
Záhovar refrained from glancing at Gîrakûn; she would not give the witch the satisfaction of knowing that she had turned Záhovar's own words against her. _So you thought to use Kaelun against me? Two can play that game, witch._ She frowned in pretended worry. ”I am sorry to hear that, dear one. It would seem your mistress misunderstood my intentions; I never asked her not to let you find that kind of release. I merely asked her not to torture or starve you. Since she _did_ let you suffer,” Záhovar turned her head slightly to look Gîrakûn straight in the eye, ”shall I then consider our agreement void?”  
As Gîrakûn stared her down, Záhovar decided that she had never seen her mentor so angry. The smirk had frozen into a seething grimace on her face and her eyes shone with barely restrained fury. Then the moment was over, as fast as it had come. Gîrakûn let out a soft little chuckle and nodded to her with something that could have been mistaken for respect and, strangely, pride. Záhovar returned the nod but was not fooled.  
  
Now that Záhovar had grown more skilled at reading emotions in people's eyes, she could tell that Kaelun was not happy. He may be smiling and his voice may be the same husky purr as the last time they met, but his eyes were filled with fear and agony. _No doubt he fears a repeat of last time. I wonder how she punished him for failing? Or perhaps he fears that I am like Gîrakûn after this little exchange and what Graznikh did to him._  
”When I leave this place, you will come with me,” Záhovar said quietly. Kaelun's eyes widened.  
”Yes, it would seem that Záhovar will be your new master from then on,” Gîrakûn commented dryly. ”If everything goes according to her plans.”  
As Kaelun embraced her and placed his cheek against hers, Záhovar wondered why she had never seen him be this affectionate with Gîrakûn. _She holds the leash to his compulsion. Should he not be completely focused on her?_  
”Worship... and Ladyship... as one?” The question was a barely audible breath against her ear. Záhovar's nod was little more than a brush of skin against skin, but she felt the willowy Uruk grin briefly against her cheek before he retreated back to Gîrakûn's side without taking his eyes off her.  
Záhovar threw a worried look at Praktash through the viewing screen. ”May I remove him from in there now? Is it safe to do so?”  
”Hm? Oh, yes. Quite. It will take some time for it to produce new eggs, and it is quite docile while doing so. Uruk! Take that one back to its cell.” With that, she left with Kaelun in tow.  
Margzat moved as if in a trance, but Záhovar stopped him. ”And what have you learned?”  
The krîtar looked at her with eyes brimming with despair. Slowly he shook his head without speaking.   
Záhovar snorted. ”Follow me.”  
  
The door to the breeding chamber was not locked, but simply barred. Margzat removed the bars at Záhovar's request and opened it; the stench from inside made him double over and throw up. Záhovar held a scented handkerchief pressed tightly to her face as she went inside. The scent did not affect her as strongly as it did the Uruks, but she felt faint and her knees weak. She doubted that she would be able to run like Praktash had done were she ever subjected to this monster's attentions. The parasite huddled in a corner of the ceiling like a giant, fleshy spider, seemingly asleep. Even so, both she and Margzat kept a close eye on it as the krîtar picked the unconscious drugdealer up and carried him to the dubious safety outside.  
They did not return Praktash to his cell as Gîrakûn had commanded. In the corridor outside the guest quarters was a large bath chamber that had not seen any use for a very long time, but the plumbing was still functional and Záhovar doubted that anyone would complain if they used it to get the slime off her snaga. Both she and Margzat undressed to avoid further soiling their clothes as one of the smaller tubs filled with warm water and then set to work. Praktash muttered and tossed a bit but did not return to consciousness as they lowered him into the water. Margzat sat down behind him and supported him so that he would not slip beneath the surface while Záhovar gently scrubbed the slime and filth off. He had large welts and bruises where the parasite had held him and he had drooled bloody saliva down his chin and neck; the latter was slightly swollen where the mandibles had stung him. Záhovar checked that his tongue was not bitten off before trickling diluted healing balm into his mouth.  
After soaping and rinsing Praktash's body and hair in new water and drying him, Záhovar left Margzat alone with him for a while to check on Graznikh and Sulmurz and to get something in which to wrap him up. The krîtar sat on a crumbling bench with Praktash's head in his lap, feeling sick with fear and guilt. In all the years he had lived and worked in Blog Shakâmb, he had never been afraid the way he now was. He had never fully understood the depth of the witch's depravity or what she had subjected her snaga to. The snaga _he_ had unwittingly guarded. The snaga he had released from that nightmare. The snaga he had somehow willingly sent back to that fate.  
Praktash looked peaceful now that he was clean and somewhat dry. His lower belly was swollen, but other than the bitten tongue and the disturbingly shaped bruises he had no serious wounds. Margzat combed his claws through the damp, red mane, both dreading and longing for the moment those green eyes would open. He knew that the queer face would twist with hate and anger the moment Praktash spotted him, and he would be right to do so.  
”I'm a fuckin' idiot, Bukrazikh,” he whispered. ”Ya don't deserve me. Ya don't deserve any o' this. Stick with Graznikh; I'm thinkin' he's done good by ya. Better than I ever could.” The door opened and Záhovar returned, flanked by Graznikh and Sulmurz. Graznikh was by Praktash's side in an instant, eyes wide with concern. ”Has he moved at all?”  
”Just a bit o' mutterin',” Margzat said as he stood, putting Praktash's head down on the bench. ”I'm thinkin' he'll need some days' rest after all this.”  
”You don't say... Skai.” Graznikh stood and shook his head. Then he turned to Margzat and nodded towards the door. ”Chat. Now.” Margzat took his clothes and armour in his arms and followed Graznikh out into the hallway.  
”So what happened back in Lugburz?” Graznikh asked. ”Why're you here and not there?”  
”I got transferred,” Margzat said as he dressed. ”Him too. Th' Ladyship said the order came from the Eye.”  
”And you didn't bother to check whether that was true or not? He's Lug-snaga; he can't get transferred, you know that! What kind of an idiot are you?!”  
”A big one,” Margzat replied through gritted teeth. ”I fucked up, I know that. An' I can't undo this shit, not this time.”  
”You don't know that. Záhovar suspects trickery in this, and she's usually the one to know.”  
”'At doesn't matter,” Margzat said.  
Graznikh frowned. ”You're leaving?” Margzat didn't look at him as he nodded. ”Just like that? You're not even gonna talk to him, tell him why?”  
”What's there to say, Lug-snaga?” Margzat asked with a tortured face. ”What kind o' words could I use to ever make this right? I put him through that! If I'd had the guts to stand up an' say 'wait a moment, this smells fishy an' it ain't corsairs', then none o' this woulda happened! I'm thinkin' I coulda done _somethin',_ an' it's eatin' me up!”  
”So you're just gonna tuck tail and run like an even bigger coward?” Graznikh growled. ”You're gonna smash his face in the dirt a second time and not even try to clean up?”  
” _I can't,_ ” Margzat whined. ”So yeah, I'm leavin'. Tell him... Skai, tell him whatever ya want. I'm not gonna kill myself, but I'm not... I can't. I just can't.”  
Graznikh nodded. ”Alright then. I'll let ya go.”   
Margzat gave him a surprised glance. ”Just like 'at?”  
”If anyone's to hold the blade, it'll be him,” Graznikh growled and nodded towards the bath chamber. ”When he's better, if he wants to track ya down I'll help him. You won't be able to escape if we do. But I won't steal his revenge from him.”  
Margzat gave him a grateful nod. ”I'm up for a drink if we ever cross paths again, no matter what happens after. Good knowin' ya. An' all the rest.” He turned to leave, but hesitated. ”Say, Lug-snaga? Got somethin' to tell ya, if you've a mind for it. Keep a secret.”  
”Sure.”   
  
Margzat stepped up close and looked around, listening and sniffing for any sign of eavesdroppers. Then he leaned down and began to whisper in Graznikh's ear. Graznikh's frown grew deeper and deeper as Margzat spoke, and when he was done he gave the krîtar an incredulous glare. ”You can't be serious? All the time?!”  
”Every step o' the road.”  
”What about what you did in Morigost?”  
Margzat shook his head with a wince. ”Ya still have my respect, Lug-snaga. More now than ever.” He swallowed. ”Take care o' Praktash for me, will ya?”  
Graznikh gnashed his teeth while fighting the impulse to just gore the Uruk there and then. But this kill was not his to make and he had other, more present concerns to worry about. He closed his eyes and nodded. ”Give 'em nightmares out there, krîtar.”  
”Will do, Lug-snaga. Will do.” With that, Margzat was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first version of this chapter was written already when I wrote "The Battles We Choose" and at first it only existed to tick off the "tentacle rape" box of the hentai/porn trope challenge I have going. Back then, Kaelun did not exist and Záhovar was to give Praktash away willingly, but once I got around to giving it a proper place in the story things had taken a completely unexpected turn and I had to rewrite everything. But now it's here, it's out there and I can focus on mopping up the mess it has left in the plotline :P


	5. Both Darkness And Dreams

Graznikh returned to the bath chamber. Praktash still had not stirred, but he seemed to be breathing calmer now, as if he was just sleeping. Záhovar sat beside him with a hand on his chest and did not look up when Graznikh stopped beside her.  
”Where is Margzat?” she asked.  
”Gone.”  
Now she did look up. ”You let him go?”  
”Aye, for a reason. I'll explain later.”  
”I do hope that it is a good one.”  
Graznikh chuckled mirthlessly. ”So do I.”  
  
Sulmurz returned shortly and reported that the path to the guest quarters was clear. The Orcs carried Praktash back there and tucked him into bed. Graznikh took up watch by the bedside in case he woke up while Záhovar prepared to use a kind of sorcery that she had only read about but never attempted before.  
”Did you do as I instructed?” she asked Graznikh as she pinned her tailbone-length hair into a bun with two slender steel hairforks to keep it out of the way.  
”Yup. Jacked him off, broke the compulsion and messed him up a bit to set his mind on the right track.”  
”Good... It may not be enough though. We shall see.”  
She undressed and knelt on the carpet-covered floor and nodded for Sulmurz to take one of the large rush candles that stood on the table. Slowly, almost reverently, he began pouring the hot tallow onto her naked skin. Graznikh thought it an odd practice, but it seemed to help her focus somehow. The tallow trickled down her back, shoulders and chest as she began to chant quietly in the Black Speech; the hypnotic rhythm made him feel funny, as if each syllable somehow tugged on a spot inside the base of his throat. He cleared it to get rid of the feeling, but to no avail. After a while there was a rush of  _something_ and all the lights went out as one; the air rapidly grew cold and the Orcs' breaths began to come out in little white clouds.  
There was a soft crack as the tallow froze on Záhovar's skin and fell off in an instant. In the dark, Graznikh could see her grow pale as snow; her hair turned black and her skin began to glow faintly. Then she  _faded_ and slowly became more and more transparent, except for her once slit throat that began to bleed black. She broke the chant and exhaled from exertion with a hiss that reverberated in the air. Sulmurz moved closer to Graznikh in a feeble attempt to seek comfort; the sound she had made was not that of the living.  
  
Záhovar's head rolled back as she sank deeper into the trance. Her sense of self spread beyond the boundaries of her physical body in a soundless nova as she took flight into the Unseen. For a moment she was every _where_ and every _thing_ , but she managed to pull herself together before she lost herself entirely. She tried to focus on that which made her  _her_ and found herself broken, flawed; a shattered thing of Light glued together with Shadow in uneven pieces that did not quite fit together; some were chafing and grinding against each other while others felt like magnetic opposites that would spring apart if not for the corruption holding them in place. But even so she was strong, the glue being thicker than the original unbroken figurine. She redirected her focus and quickly set to work probing Gîrakûn's defenses. She was not alone in that endeavour, but for some reason she could not focus on the others. In the Unseen the defensive shield appeared as a solid wall of thick glass, riddled with smoke and thin, spidery cracks where distraction caused her focus to fail. They slowly increased in number; she was not too late. Záhovar doubted that she would be able to beat the witch in a duel even here, but if the plan she had devised worked, there would be no fight.  
Seen from the world of the Unseen, Gîrakûn's quarters looked blurry and colourless, the walls foggy while the wraiths and wights that meandered beyond them appeared solid and bright. The witch lay in her alcove bed with Kaelun, as expected. Their emotions wafted in the air like scent made visible, picked up by senses that did not exist in the Seen and that defied all description. There were three silver threads leading from her; one to Kaelun, one to Praktash and one to...   
Záhovar distanced herself from the discovery and waited like a hovering kite, ready to strike. At her moment of crisis, the cracks in Gîrakûn's defenses increased both in number and size. Záhovar folded her Unseen wings and fell upon her, her own shield slamming into the other like a bore, the impact shattering them both. Gîrakûn's eyes snapped open as she understood what she felt and her scream echoed in both worlds as she fought the compulsion that Záhovar forced upon her, but ultimately failed. Her scream was cut short the moment the tendrils reached the center of her existence and formed a secure knot.

The ether seemed to waver with heat as the Dark Lord fell upon them with the roaring of fire and blood.  _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!  
_ Záhovar let out a soundless scream as His anger threatened to dissolve that which held her existence together.  
_DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IS AT STAKE? RELEASE HER AT ONCE!  
_ She could not voice her defense, but the Dark Lord's presence seemed to contemplate the torrent of memories, emotions and intentions that she sent in its place. Curiosity flickered and His touch briefly raked her mind.  _I WILL LET IT PASS, THIS ONCE._ Then He vanished. Záhovar immediately did as commanded and returned to her body.

  
”It is time!” she gasped as she opened her physical eyes and calmed her convulsing body. Graznikh nodded with terrified eyes; he had been straddling her to keep her from hurting herself. He jumped to his feet when she motioned for him to do so and drew his blades while nodding for Sulmurz to do the same. Praktash was still out cold, but Záhovar doubted that he would come to anytime soon so they left him alone for now. After dressing and donning her armour, she marched towards Gîrakûn's quarters with Graznikh and Sulmurz close behind.  
They found Gîrakûn wrapped in a heavy robe on the bedside, looking pale and stricken. Kaelun had curled up into a ball as far into the alcove as he could get and was trembling and sobbing sharply. When Záhovar stopped in front of the witch, he suddenly cried out as though someone had struck him and rolled out of the bed, darting past the Orcs. Graznikh made a move to catch him but a look from Záhovar made him abandon the chase.   
Gîrakûn looked up at her with a hard-set expression.  
”I must confess,” she said slowly, ”that I am curious as to how you managed this.”  
”You will give me that which you owe me,” Záhovar hissed. ”And you will release my snaga. _All_ of them.” Graznikh and Sulmurz shared a confused glance.  
”Ah.” Gîrakûn smiled wearily as she beckoned for Graznikh to approach. After a nod from Záhovar, he did so and the witch snapped her fingers in his face. He howled as a thousand little needles were withdrawn from his mind. Sulmurz pulled him aside as his legs gave out and the pain soon abated a little as Záhovar lent him her support. The ordeal did not last long; once it was over, he felt like a strong, cold gust had swept the cobwebs from his brain and somehow he knew that this time, they would not return. Then the bond opened wide and he thought he would go insane as Záhovar reached out and cradled his entire existence without holding back.  
”You utter, fucking _bitch,_ ” he growled at Gîrakûn. ”None o' that was me, was it? _You_ caused all of it!!” He snorted with frustation as the two High Officers ignored him.  
”And the others?” Záhovar asked.  
”That will take a little longer,” Gîrakûn said. ”Should I simply release them, or pass the leash over to you?”  
”Pass it over.”  
”A wise choice,” the witch said with a knowing little smile. ”I do hope you will enjoy Kaelun's skills. It has been rather miserable since you left; compulsion-induced lust can be quite... _overwhelming_ with no outlet. I do wonder what you did to it to make it ask after you so fervently.”  
”I am sure he will forgive me in time.”  
”Oh, it will. Quite soon, I'd say.”  
Gîrakûn stood and beckoned for Záhovar to approach.   
  
Graznikh felt... odd. Empty and clean, as if something filthy had been rinsed from his insides that he had not even been aware of. Now he was himself, fully himself, no strange hate or bitterness resurfaced as he took hold of the bond, ready to help Záhovar if the witch tried to trick them. But he lost his concentration completely as Záhovar bent down and kissed her former tutor and current enemy on the mouth.  
Sulmurz leaned closer without taking his eyes off the scene before them. ”Am I weird for thinking this is hot?”  
”Yup,” Graznikh replied absently. ”Completely sick.”  
Sulmurz nodded with an almost disappointed scowl. ”'At's what I thought too.”  
Touch was necessary for the passing over of a compelled slave's bond; kissing, however, was not. But Záhovar knew that her mentor preferred it this way for reasons unknown to her. _Perhaps the intimacy helps... Or perhaps she wants to unnerve a potential victim._ Suddenly there was a rush of power as Gîrakûn pushed _something_ into her chest. For a brief moment, Záhovar thought it was a knife and that her decision to let her guard down had caught up with her, but then there was an exhilarating sense of superiority and control as the governing end of the compulsion-leashes settled within.   
Záhovar had used the spell many times when training Praktash to resist it, but she had never fully applied it to him or used it to master control of another being against their will. The moment with Margzat or recent events in the Unseen could not be counted; the first time had been too brief and during the latter, she had been so separated from her physical body that she could not truly feel the effect it had on her. Now she held two minds in complete sway and finally understood why its use was so restricted. She broke the kiss with a gasp and met Gîrakûn's eyes.  
”Now you know,” the witch whispered as she stepped back with a knowing smile. ”Use it wisely.” Then she frowned. ”Now begone from my home! Leave an old woman to her loneliness.”  
For a brief moment, Záhovar remained still. This was an opportunity to end their personal war, but she decided against it. She wanted her snaga far out of the way first, that they might have a chance to escape should she lose. She turned and nodded for her snaga to do the same. Kaelun was nowhere to be seen, but the leash told her enough to locate him.  
  
  
The first thing Praktash saw when he opened his eyes was a disturbingly familiar mosaic ceiling. Every muscle and joint ached and he felt utterly spent. For a brief moment he wondered if the witch had ridden him dry, but then the memories returned. The first conscious intake of breath caused a coughing fit that emptied his lungs and throat of mucus and clotted blood; he whimpered as a stab of pain shot up through his abused abdomen.  
A warm body pressed into his and he looked sideways into Kaelun's glowing, amber eyes. He hesitantly lifted a finger and poked his brother's nose, unsure if he was real or not. As Kaelun brushed his cheek with light fingertips in return, Praktash leaned into his embrace.  
”Was any of it real?” he whispered. _My tongue hurts._ ”Graz, Záza, 'Zat... Was it all just a dream?”  
”Nothin's real,” Kaelun whispered back while nuzzling his ear. Praktash let out a little sigh and relaxed, knowing his brother's words to be true. _But if none of that was real... Why does losin' them hurt so much?_ The compulsion was there of course, dormant in the back of his head. The witch knew that there was no escape for him now, just as well as he did himself. _My guts hurt._ The full feeling in his groin was uncomfortable but familiar, nothing he had not felt many times before. It meant that he would get some rest from his usual duties and get fed a little better, get pampered a little. He should be grateful. _Everythin' hurts._  
A tear slid down his cheek. Kaelun kissed it away. ”I've missed ya, Khayri.” Praktash – no, Khayri - tried to say that he had missed him too, but the tears just kept coming and his voice failed. He pressed his face into his brother's black mane and wept bitterly for things that had never existed in the first place. _Just another mindfuck. Just another lie._  
”I displeased our Ladyship,” Kaelun whispered and Khayri could feel him tremble. ”There'll be pain. So much pain...” Despite the pain, Khayri took a tighter grip as Kaelun began to cry as well.  
There was a ruckus outside the door to the bed chamber. It soon opened and Kaelun turned to look. Khayri stared over his brother's shoulder at the too-familiar stranger. _Red eyes like my Ladyship's blood. Black, shaggy hair. Pale skin, like ash an' dust._  
  
Graznikh cursed quietly as he walked up to the bed. Praktash stared at him with eyes that had seen too much but that did not recognise him.  
”The fuck did you do to him?” he barked at Kaelun.  
”I comforted him,” the docile Uruk replied. ”He was alone. We shouldn't be left alone.”  
”There's no fuckin' 'we' here. Now get out!”  
Praktash clung to his brother's waist and Kaelun made no sign that he had heard or even understood Graznikh's order. ”Lord Záhovar! Need a hand here, if ya don't mind.”  
When Záhovar entered, Kaelun's eyes grew wide.  
”Get up, Kaelun,” she said quietly and he jumped to his feet despite Praktash's protesting whimper. Graznikh prepared to defend her from an assault as Kaelun slowly came closer, moving as though he was sleepwalking. Praktash's twin reached out and cupped her face in both hands.  
”My Ladyship..?!” he whispered. As she gave a little nod, he bent down and kissed her so tenderly that Graznikh felt sick. Sulmurz began to snicker but fell quiet as he punched him. When Kaelun eventually broke the kiss, his eyes were filled with unabashed adoration.  
Khayri stared at the scene with haunted eyes. Kaelun's every move and word told him that it was Gîrakûn standing before him, but he saw Záhovar. Even the compulsion in his mind told him that it was his Ladyship standing there; the forced longing to obey, to please threatened to overwhelm him even with no commands to follow. _It's just another mindfuck,_ he told himself sternly when the panic began to rise. _It's just an illusion, she's not real!_  
”Praktash?” Záhovar's illusion met his eyes and Khayri recoiled a little. Even the voice was hers, but it could not be. _It's not real, it's not real! Or... what if it_ was _real an' she fell to compulsion as well? What if... No..!_ Graznikh came over and sat down on the bedside, and Khayri recoiled further.  
”Hey buddy. How ya doin'?”  
”Why?” Khayri whispered as he closed his eyes. ”Why did you have to take everythin'? Couldn't you've left somethin'? Just a little somethin'...”  
Graznikh gave Záhovar a frightened look. ”What's wrong with him?”  
”He thinks that we are an illusion, I believe.”  
”So he's under compulsion too?”  
”Yes, but it is not active at the moment. He was at Gîrakûn's mercy for so long that recent events have triggered a relapse into what he must have been like before he left Blog Shakâmb. Praktash?”  
Praktash had hidden his face in the pillow and refused to look up.  
”Do you know who I am?”  
”...My Ladyship,” came the muffled, whispered answer.  
”And will you leave this chamber, these halls, willingly and follow me where I lead you?”  
A sob was heard from within the pillow, then he gave her a brief nod.  
”C'mon buddy, we're not gonna-” Graznikh begun and put a hand on his shoulder. Praktash howled in terror and threw himself into the alcove so hard that he hit the far wall with a thud and would have hurt himself had the wall not been cushioned.  
”Brother,” Kaelun whispered, then he looked at Záhovar. ”My Ladyship, let me help him! I know how!”   
”And how the fuck would you 'help' him?” Graznikh asked and growled as Kaelun ignored him. ”Hey!”  
”There is another way,” Záhovar said. ”I do not like it, but we are running out of time; speed is of the essence now.”  
  
Activating the mind dominating effect of the spell was not all that different from reaching out through the bond, although there was no true connection between their minds, no heartfelt understanding. It was a leash between master and hapless slave. ”Praktash... Get up.”  
Praktash immediately rolled across the bed and stood with fluid moves. Kaelun took a step forward with a surprised gasp as his 'brother' fell to his knees with a weak groan. The Uruk redhead shook his head and took a deep breath which he slowly let out again. He lifted his eyes and as they met Záhovar's, the look he gave her was of the kind he usually reserved for Graznikh in their most passionate and tender moments. He reached out and gingerly touched her knee. Then he latched onto her leg, purring wildly. Kaelun grinned happily and did the same, and soon Záhovar had two lovesick Uruks fawning over her.   
”Well, that's sure not creepy as all shit,” Sulmurz commented. Graznikh walked up to Praktash, who acted as if he did not exist at all. He was busy toying with a wayward tress of Záhovar's hair, completely mesmerised.  
”So this is compulsion?” he whispered. ”Skai...” As he placed a hand on Praktash's shoulder, his buddy turned in the blink of an eye from docile snaga to furious Uruk. He swiped at him with a clawless hand and hit him in the face.  
”No!!” Záhovar snapped. Praktash recoiled as if she had hit him in turn. ”You will not hit him! When I am absent or otherwise occupied, you will obey Graznikh as you obey me. You will not assault him in any way unless he openly attacks me. Is that clear?” Praktash and Kaelun both nodded vigorously.  
”Good,” Záhovar said a little softer. ”Now apologise to him. Not you, Kaelun.”  
”That's not really necessary,” Graznikh said as he wiped his bleeding mouth, but Praktash had already moved. He knelt before him and Graznikh stared into his bright green eyes, so familiar but so _wrong_. Praktash's expression told him that he was perfectly content and slightly horny, but his scent and eyes spoke of dread and despair so intense that he should be screaming, not leaning his head against his hip with a contented little smile and beg him for forgiveness with loving eyes.  
”'S okay, buddy, don't worry,” Graznikh murmured and brushed his knuckles again his cheek. ”I get it; you're not in control right now. But you will be, we'll set ya free as soon as we're able.”He looked at Záhovar. ”Won't we?”  
”You have my word,” Záhovar replied.   
”So what're we waiting for?” Sulmurz asked. ”Let's get outta here afore that witch comes after us all!”  
”I agree,” Záhovar said.  
”Don'tcha think you should rest a little?” Graznikh asked her. ”You're injured'n bloody exhausted'n you won't be much better if you wear yourself out completely.”  
”I dare not risk staying any longer. She may have some way of replenishing her strength faster than I do and that may spell doom for us all. Let us at least move down to the Trench and put some distance between us and this soul-draining place.”  
  
  
After finding two cloaks and making sure that the Uruk twins would wear them, the odd little group left the guest quarters and began to make their way up through the fortress. Praktash's gear was nowhere to be found and Kaelun had no clothes beside his loincloth, so the cloaks would be the only thing shielding them from the biting winds and ashfalls on the plain.  
Záhovar called for their mounts the moment they reached the stables and waited nervously as they were readied. Once they arrived, she led her horse through the main gate with the two Uruks in tow; the wargs followed their riders.   
Travelling the short distance between the fortress and the Trench proved quite difficult. Not because the Uruk twins were troublesome, quite the contrary; they proved very manageable... for her. Those who caused the most fuss were Graznikh and Sulmurz. Záhovar had put them in charge of keeping an eye on the twins to get some respite from their constant idolatry, but Sulmurz kept freaking out because of Kaelun's attempts to hug him and Graznikh had serious trouble resisting Praktash's attempts to get into his loincloth, despite knowing that his buddy probably did not do this willingly.  
”Záhovar! Help!” Graznikh snickered as Praktash managed to fell him for the fifth time.  
”Not again,” Záhovar muttered with a sigh. ”Perhaps I should reconsider letting the two of you guard them.”  
”Please do,” Sulmurz whimpered. Despite his willowy appearance, Kaelun was far stronger than him and Sulmurz was defenseless against his affectionate advances. Currently the amber-eyed Uruk was carrying him around like an oversized comfort pillow and Sulmurz looked close to breaking point.  
Even so, Záhovar could not resist teasing him a little. ”Are you sure? He does seem a lot happier with you around.”  
”GNAAAA.”  
”Very well... Uruks, release them both.” Sulmurz let out an 'oof' as Kaelun dropped him and Graznikh could not keep a protesting whimper from escaping as Praktash abruptly stopped stroking him.  
”I'm gonna need a wank once we stop,” he grumbled as he retied his loincloth.  
Despite numerous similar little incidents along the road, they eventually reached the Trench. The wind had picked up and made the metal roof sheets on the crude buildings creak and clatter. Kaelun was terrified and kept twitching and turning in response to every little noise until Záhovar convinced Sulmurz to play the role of comfort pillow again.   
The Captain gave them lodgings of far greater comfort than what Graznikh had had the previous time he passed and their steeds were stabled nearby. Graznikh and Sulmurz took one room while Záhovar and the Uruks shared the larger one next door.  
”If they keep at this much longer, I'mma bloody snap,” Sulmurz grumbled as he tried to punch some comfort into his straw-filled mattress. ”What the _fuck'_ re you doin'?!”  
”Shut up,” Graznikh groaned as he furiously tugged himself. ”I gotta get this over with!”  
Sulmurz complained a bit more about indecencies and bad occasions, but after another bark at him to shut the fuck up, he decided to take matters into his own hands and relieve some frustration of his own.  
  
Záhovar sighed as she sat down on the crude straw bed. She felt emotionally drained and weary to the bone from both physical and mental exertion and the unnaturally fast healing that Gîrakûn's sorcery had forced her body into. Holding the leashes to the compulsion-chained Uruks was draining as well, she found; some part of Praktash's mind had not yet given up and was fighting back with all the effort he could muster. Záhovar could sense his resistance as a constant nudging in the back of her head, like a little ball of clay filled with sharp sand, tiny thorns and other impurities. From the corner of her eye she saw him jump a little as she yawned; no doubt he was fully aware of her attention and expected her to do something painful or uncomfortable to punish him for even this small disobedience. _If Gîrakûn had been the one to hold him, she probably would have done so by now. Oh Praktash... I hope this has not destroyed all your trust in me!_  
Kaelun's presence, on the other hand, was completely soft and pliable; he did not fight the compulsion at all and Záhovar suspected that it had been many years since he last attempted to do so. He was busy brushing the dust off his and Praktash's bodies where they knelt on the floor near the far wall and met Záhovar's eyes with an innocent and shy little smile when he caught her looking at them. Meanwhile, Praktash eyed her with a completely different expression. Some shadow of his original personality seeped through the mask that compulsion had forced upon him; he held his head far higher than Kaelun did and met her gaze with eyes both longing and challenging. Perhaps it was because he had not been fully beaten into submission or perhaps because he had regained some of his courage after the ordeal in Blog Shakâmb; whatever the reason, he looked far more confident now that he was out of the place. Despite this, Záhovar was not overly concerned for her own sake. For all the abuse he had suffered, she knew the real Praktash and felt confident that she would be able to predict his reactions while compelled. Kaelun was the true wildcard; as she looked upon his adolescent form, she reminded herself not to underestimate him. He was dangerous because there was no telling what to expect from him. _Except for..._ She did not finish the thought, but it made her cheeks heat a little. Both Uruks' nostrils flared and for a brief moment, she caught a glimmer of that overwhelming desire in Kaelun's eyes.  
She tried to ignore them and began to remove her greaves. Praktash and Kaelun studied her every move in a way that reminded her of the wyrm she had met on the plains of southern Rhûn. After a while she began to feel a little unnerved by their staring. ”Will you not rest?”  
”Our Ladyship did not permit us to,” Kaelun answered coyly.  
”I did not permit you to sit down either.” Both Uruks stiffened at her words and suddenly looked terrified. Záhovar sighed. ”Never mind. You have my permission to sit or lie down, do as you please. But do not leave this room.”  
The twins shared a smile and crawled on all fours over to her.  
”What are you doing?” Záhovar asked as they climbed into bed and began to fluff up the mattress and the thin blanket as best they could.  
”As we please,” Praktash replied with a sultry leer. ”My Ladyship said we could.”  
”My Ladyship, may we help?” Kaelun asked with a seductive little smile.  
”You... may,” Záhovar replied reluctantly. Gentle hands began to pluck at the buckles on her armour, but no further groping ensued and little by little, she dared to relax. Praktash instructed Kaelun on the task at hand and the amber-eyed Uruk planted a soft kiss on each of her ankles as he pulled her greaves and boots off and rubbed her feet with skilled hands. Praktash did the same with her wrists as he removed her gauntlets and gloves and placed them so that they would not get scratched. Then they both pulled her cuirass off and began to plant kisses along her shoulders. Before Záhovar could tell them to leave her clothes on, Praktash had opened her tunic and moved to push her down, but Kaelun stopped him. ”Careful, brother! She is injured!”  
Praktash gasped. ”Not... I didn't..?”  
”No, it was not through any doing of yours, nor your brother's,” Záhovar reassured him. ”Thank you Kaelun, you may- mmph!” Before she could finish the sentence, Kaelun had covered her mouth with his own. Her attempts to push him away proved futile as he caught one of her hands with his own and snaked the other around her waist. Praktash caught the other and together they skillfully maneuvered her down, covering her body with theirs. She found that she could not reach out to them the way she could with Graznikh; as she took hold of the threads of compulsion and pulled, their attentions only grew more insistent. Without a spoken command, she knew of no way to control her newly acquired snaga. Kaelun had, perhaps knowingly, shut down her only defense. He continued to invade her mouth with his tongue while Praktash removed her trousers and underwear.   
_I am beginning to see why Gîrakûn kept these two locked up when not actively controlling them,_ Záhovar thought as wet lips brushed hers both above and below. _No doubt they learned to take advantage of every oversight on her... Ooh!_ She moaned into Kaelun's mouth as Praktash began to purr. Clawless hands roamed her body, overwhelming her with pleasurable sensations. Both Uruks purred with delight at her reactions and Kaelun soon replaced his mouth with a firm hand and crawled underneath her. Praktash helped him by spreading her legs and lifting her hips to give him easy access.   
”My Ladyship,” Kaelun whispered in her ear. ”May I..?”  
With her head held fast and her mouth being covered, all Záhovar could reply was a muffled ”Mm..!” How Kaelun interpreted that was obvious.  
She stopped struggling as she felt the hot, slippery head probe her from below. She did not want to enjoy this, it felt like she was abusing them, but she was too weak to fight back physically and dared not use sorcery since reaching for the Unseen would leave her exposed to a potential counterattack from the witch.  
”My beautiful Ladyship,” Kaelun moaned as he began to thrust slowly. ”I want ya so, oh I _need_ ya!” Záhovar looked down as Praktash purred; he was teasing her with his fingers and winked playfully at her. He looked so much like his old self that Záhovar ached inside, and suddenly she was terrified.  
 _What if she tricked me? What if this is the prelude to another assault on my mind?! I cannot beat back another one, not weakened and with both of them on me like this!_   
”Use your mouth, brother!” Kaelun gasped. ”You're so good at it!”  
Praktash met Záhovar's eyes with a big leer as he obeyed. Strong hands tilted her hips and held her steady so that Kaelun found the right angle; warm lips found her most sensitive and began to nibble it rapidly. Soon she came hard, her cry muffled by Kaelun's hand, and desperately begged Graznikh to save her.  
  
”What the ever-lovin' _fuck_?!” Graznikh squeaked, making Sulmurz jump in surprise.  
”What, what?!” He stared as Graznikh rolled over with a loud moan. ”Graz? What's up?”  
”I've no bloody idea,” Graznikh chuckled breathlessly. ”She just blasted me with... I dunno, I gotta see this!”  
Sulmurz reluctantly pulled his pants up and followed him as he staggered out into the corridor and made for the room their mistress shared with the Uruks. They recognised the sounds coming from it long before they had seen what happened within.  
”Well, well, well,” Graznikh purred as he opened the door. ”Looks like somebody couldn't wait 'til we got back home, could she?” He chuckled at her frantic pleading. ”Nar, nobody's puttin' a spell on ya! I woulda felt it if it happened, right? Relax and enjoy, this is just a regular fuck.” He sat down and threw Sulmurz a happy glance. ”If you're just gonna stand there'n gawk, you might as well go fetch my bedroll!”  
”You're gonna wank to this?!”  
”You're bloody right I will!” Graznikh purred. Praktash threw him a hungry, inviting look without letting go of his 'Ladyship'. Kaelun had removed his hand from her mouth to roam her body instead, relishing every gasp and moan he caused.   
”So good,” he rasped and smothered her ear and neck with kisses as he thrust faster. ”So beautiful... I wanna please ya, wanna give ya everythin'!”  
”That's right,” Graznikh groaned. ”Give her that cock! Rut her good, shes been a good gal'n deserves a proper good fuck after all this!” He laughed at the brief but venomous glare that said 'gal' gave him.  
Záhovar was well on her way to coming a second time, but the position was growing increasingly painful. She pointed at herself and moved her finger in a circular motion; Kaelun understood and pulled out before gently flipping her over. Soon she was on her back on the mattress and he on top. Then he pulled her legs up against his chest and impaled her again.  
”That little guy sure can _fuck!_ ” Graznikh exclaimed as Kaelun pounded his new 'Ladyship' into oblivion once more. Praktash nodded with a big, happy grin.   
Graznikh got an idea. ”Say, buddy? Praktash?”  
It took Praktash some effort to tear his eyes off the scene, but eventually he met Graznikh's eyes.  
Graznikh nodded towards Záhovar. ”She's otherwise occupied right now, isn't she?”  
Praktash blinked in confusion until Graznikh made a gesture towards his crotch. ”Mind helping a buddy out..?”  
Praktash planted a finger against his chest and pushed him down onto his back.  
Sulmurz rolled his eyes at the sight, but decided to try to ignore their doings and focus on Záhovar instead. He knelt beside the bed and took Záhovar's hand, wrapping her little fingers around his shaft and moving them up and down with one hand. The other he placed at her neck, squeezing lightly. ”C'mon milady..! Give _up_ proper, we'll show ya how..!”  
  
Graznikh spent himself with a delighted moan and Praktash purred as he milked every last drop out of him and nuzzled his groin with a disturbingly happy smile. Graznikh pulled him close to sniff his neck and was satisfied that for once, scent and expression matched somewhat.  
”I'd give ya some back,” he whispered, ”but I'd wager ye're not up for it.”  
”Hurts,” Praktash murmured with a disappointed little smile.  
”Aye, I figured as much. Don'tcha worry, we'll get ya sorted once we're back in Lugburz. You _and_ your look-alike.” Graznikh threw Sulmurz a thoughtful look. ”You know, I'd wager he could do with a handjob too.”  
The deranged grin returned to Praktash's lips.  
”Ohh aye, thats right,” Sulmurz purred, drinking in the sight of Záhovar's contorting face. ”You like that, don'tcha? Now this is a kind o' worship I could get behind for sure..!” He bared his fangs as Praktash suddenly appeared beside him, but the Uruk ignored him. Instead he leaned in close to Záhovar's face with a reverent look in his eyes.  
”My Ladyship... May I-”  
”Yes!!” Záhovar moaned. It was obvious that she had no clue what he was asking about.  
Sulmurz had no idea how an Uruk of that size could move so fast. One moment he was sitting next to Záhovar, the other he was pinned to the floor. It took him a moment to register the hands eagerly kneading his cock, but once he did he howled out loud.  
”Stop it!! Sto-... Sto-oohh...!!”  
”Mind the claws,” Graznikh chuckled as he grabbed his wrists and held him down. Sulmurz was soon beyond protests; Praktash tugged him to a powerful orgasm, then a second and a third before he was finally released.  
  
Kaelun tensed up and Záhovar could tell that he was close. ”My Ladyship,” he mumbled hoarsely. ”Have I pleased ya? May I..?”  
”Yes,” she gasped. That was all it took; a few hard thrusts later, Kaelun spent himself. Even his loud groan as he came was melodious. Záhovar gasped for air and tried to regain control of herself, expecting him to burst into tears at any moment. But Kaelun did not. Once his trembling stopped and he breathed easily once more, he met her eyes with innocent confusion, weariness and fear written all over his face. He leaned in close and touched her face with trembling hands, disbelieving eyes roaming all over her body.  
”I am sorry,” Záhovar murmured. ”I did not intend for this to-” Kaelun interrupted her with a tender kiss. Then he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair without a word. She could hear him sob quietly.   
Later that day when all was quiet in the Trench, Graznikh woke up as he heard someone stir nearby. Kaelun was sitting up and looking around the room with wide, frightened eyes. He froze as he caught Graznikh's red eyes looking back at him.  
”Hey,” Graznikh whispered. ”What's up?”  
”This isn't real,” came the haunted, whispered reply.   
Graznikh frowned. _Skai, he's even crazier than I thought._ ”If you say so..?”  
Kaelun looked down. ”Where am I supposed to be?” The more Graznikh listened to him, the more he realised how much like Praktash he sounded; his voice was softer, but the pronounciation and the way he purred on the 'r's was the same.  
”You're in the Trench, outside o' Blog Shakamb. We're taking ya to Lugburz.”  
”You?”  
”Not just me.” Graznikh nodded towards the body between them and Kaelun glanced down. When he saw Záhovar's sleeping face, his own twisted in inexplicable grief and hurt.  
”No,” he whispered as he laid down beside her and buried his face in her hair. ”No, no, no, no, no...” He kept whispering, but Graznikh could only pick out stray phrases here and there. ”Not her... don't use her, not _her._.. Please dont take _her_..! Not again...”  
Záhovar woke up when Kaelun pulled her close. ”What..?”  
”Your new snaga woke up,” Graznikh explained. Kaelun laid with his eyes closed, but fresh tears still trickled from them every now and then. His breath hitched in his throat as Záhovar gently brushed them away.  
”I'm sorry,” he whispered.  
”You need not be. You have not hurt me.”  
For some reason, that only made him cry harder. Záhovar stroked his hair and he clung to her, his face pressed against her breasts.  
”This is gonna be a long trip,” Graznikh muttered.  
  
  
They reached Lugburz late the following night. Záhovar led them up to her tower by paths less travelled to avoid another ambush; as soon as the gate slammed shut behind her and her Lug-snaga had locked and barred it, she had the Uruks locked up in the dungeon and went to get some rest. Graznikh loudly protested that this was no way to treat his buddy, but Záhovar was adamant.  
”This matter is not up for debate! I cannot trust them to behave once I relinquish control and I will not have them harm themselves or go on a rampage! I need to be able to rest knowing that they are secure, for their sake as much as my own.” She sighed and passed a hand over her eyes. ”Give them strawbags, if you wish. You are also free to keep them company; I will not lock the dungeon door, only the ones leading to their cells.”  
Graznikh remained by Praktash's side while the others slept. He could see the moment the compulsion broke; Praktash's face went from disturbing contentment to... nothing. His eyes were completely lifeless and for a moment Graznikh feared that he was dead, but he looked up briefly as he hit the bars of the cage, proving his fears wrong. ”Buddy?”  
Praktash only looked at him but ignored all attempts at communication. When Kaelun crawled up close to the bars that separated their cages, Praktash reached for him through the bars. Graznikh hurt worse than he cared to admit. In the world his buddy was stuck in, there was no room for him. It made him all the more determined to do everything in his power to snap him out of it.  
  
”Are you ready?” Záhovar asked Graznikh the following day.  
”Aye, we're done.”  
”And Kaelun is locked up? There is nothing in there that he might harm himself with?”  
”We stripped the room of everything. The furniture's in the study and the door's locked'n barred.”  
”Good. Then we may proceed.”   
Praktash was embracing her from behind and nuzzled her hair. He purred a little as she looked up at him. ”You are no doubt very upset with me for not releasing you earlier. I hope that you will one day see why I did not. I will not ask you to show restraint when the compulsion breaks. All I ask is that you remember your brother. He needs you now more than anything; do not leave him alone.”  
Praktash laid down on the table with the shackles when commanded to and let himself be restrained with stoic docility. Záhovar instructed Graznikh and Sulmurz to hold him down as well so that he would not hurt himself. Then she gathered her focus and steeled her will.  
Untangling the knots that held Praktash's mind hostage proved to be tricky, and not only because Gîrakûn was a stronger and far more experienced sorcerer. Praktash himself resisted the process; Záhovar did not fully understand why, but she suspected that a part of him enjoyed the sensations it brought and did not want to let go. After three failed attempts she had to rest and gather new strength.  
”I think I know what to do,” Graznikh said when she explained the problem to him. ”Kaelun's compulsion broke on its own for a while when I wanked him off; maybe that'll work with Praktash too? Then all you hafta do is to keep it from reforming.”  
Záhovar gave him a weary smile. ”Why did I not think of that myself? It should have been the obvious approach.”  
”Sometimes you need someone else to state the obvious,” he told her with a grin.  
”Though... If it does not work, you must stop immediately. He should not have to suffer any more than he already has.”  
Graznikh knew what she hinted at and nodded. The violent breeding could have damaged him worse than they knew.  
”Look, err... D'ya mind if I go and keep an eye on the other one?” Sulmurz asked. ”I'm not... I've sorta had enough o' this shit for a while.”  
”You may go,” Záhovar said. ”But do not leave this floor. I may have need of you if he manages to break free.”  
”Right.” He left with a nod.  
Graznikh snorted. ”He really needs to get over that shit.”  
”And what would you have me do?” Záhovar asked. ”Give Praktash free hands?”  
”Aye, that might work.”  
”Or make things worse! Give him time. Give _all_ of us time. Void knows that we need it.”  
”Fine... Let's get on with it then. I'm not gonna rest 'til he's free again.”  
Praktash began to purr when they returned to him.  
”Hey buddy,” Graznikh said and Praktash sought his eyes after a nod of approval from Záhovar. He still reeked of anxiety and fear and Graznikh did his best to sound reassuring. ”I'm gonna try'n help ya outta this cage. Figured a handjob might do the trick, since it'll shut that part down a little. Now I just wanna say I'm not doing this to make ya feel worse, you get that don'tcha? I miss ya buddy, and I want ya back for real. We all do.”  
”I wanna...” Praktash whispered hoarsely. He whimpered a little and rolled his hips as Graznikh ran his claws down his torso, a whimper that became a shuddering moan as the hands found his cock. Záhovar scratched his shoulders and chest with her nails and compelled him to give in. Praktash was soon completely beside himself and kept thrashing and bucking desperately.  
”Feel,” Záhovar murmured. ”Let everything else go and _feel._ Come to me. Come _for_ me.”  
Praktash stared at her as though he was gazing into some Paradise that only existed in her eyes before reaching his peak with a howl. As he did so, Záhovar reached for the Unseen and focused on where the compulsion hooked into his being like a myriad of jagged little hooks. As his throes of passion faded, she could sense the area around each one grow softer, more pliant somehow. For a brief moment they were completely loose; this was the moment she had been waiting for. Záhovar threw her spirit out, as if jamming her fingers into a festering wound and rooting around in it for splinters. Praktash screamed and squeezed Graznikh's wrist so hard that he almost broke it.  
”That's right buddy,” Graznikh growled. ”Fight! You're gonna be free now, this time you'll be free for real!”  
  
Now that he stood outside the door to the temporary prison, Sulmurz wished that he had asked for another task. Being a comfort toy for the deranged Uruk again was not how he wanted to spend his time, but he had been given a command. _Can't bloody well disobey now, can I? At least he's not shovin' his nose down my pants like the other one._ He took a few moments to steel his will before unlocking the door.  
Kaelun sat hunched over in a corner of the store room that usually served as the Orcs' own little bed chamber. Since Záhovar feared that he might hurt himself if the compulsion faded when he was left alone, they had removed everything except for one of the mattresses. This included the little brazier that kept the room warm and lit. Now the only light came from Kaelun's amber eyes, which briefly swiveled in Sulmurz's direction before disappearing behind his arms again. Sulmurz remained at the door; the smell of fear lay so thick in there that it made his nose tickle. Eventually he went back out and fetched one of the elaborate candle holders from a table and placed it on the floor. Then he sat down with his back against the door. The odd Uruk made no sign to acknowledge his presence, but Sulmurz caught him peeking at the candles every now and then. The silence eventually became uncomfortable. Sulmurz opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so a horrible scream split the silence, making him jump with an embarrassing squawk.   
Kaelun only smiled a little. ”My Ladyship is enjoyin' herself...”  
Sulmurz gave him a 'what the fuck'-look. ”...What?”  
”She must be very happy,” Kaelun whispered, ”now that he's back. She likes him better.”  
”Uhh... I don't think this particular Ladyship does. She prefers it when her, uh, 'victims're willing.”  
”But he is... He can't not be. It will hurt. It will _harm.”_ He let out a little sigh when a particularly agonising scream echoed from the other room. ”But he will want it in the end. We all do... There's no escapin' _her._ ”  
”Look; Záhovar isn't like that. She's-”  
”Not real.” Kaelun closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, as if struggling to control even the slightest outburst of emotion. ”She's not real.”  
Sulmurz frowned. ”Sure she is. Don'tcha remember fucking her?”  
”'Course I remember,” Kaelun whispered. ”Doesn't make it any more real.” He suddenly lifted his head and looked straight at Sulmurz, and the Orc felt a chill run down his crooked spine; the amber-eyed Uruk looked completely insane.  
”Nothin's real,” Kaelun continued in that strange, hoarse whisper-voice. ”Just her. I know you're not real. It won't make ya go away or stop whatever you'll do to me, but it won't be real.”  
”So... If I take that candle'n set yer hair on fire, that's not real?”  
Kaelun closed his eyes and smiled in a deranged manner. ”Lies can hurt worse than what's real. Doesn't make it true.”  
”And if ya die from it?”  
”Then I'm free.” He opened his eyes again and looked at Sulmurz; suddenly he seemed sane, and that scared Sulmurz even more than the crazy. ”Is that why you're here? She has him now; she doesn't need me. She doesn't _want_ me. Did you come to set me free?”  
At first, Sulmurz could not find his tongue; it had disappeared somewhere far down his throat along with his capacity for coherent thought. When he eventually found both, he only croaked, coughed and spat to clear his throat. ”N-nar,” he managed to say. ”Nar, I didn't come to... To kill ya, if that's what ya mean. Just keep an eye on ya.”  
Kaelun hid his face in his arms again. ”Just another lie.”  
”The fuck did ya call me?! Listen here; Záhovar's gonna set ya free! Nar, she won't kill ya; she'll kill the compulsion! That's what she's doin' to Praktash right now, and she'll do it to you too once she's done with him.”  
”This is why she always liked him better,” Kaelun whispered to no one in particular. ”I learned to see. I know it's all lies, that nothin's real. He kept on fightin', believin'. I tried to help him; make him see too, but I couldn't. An' she loved every moment of it.”  
”Are you even listening to me?!” Sulmurz snarled.  
”No.”  
Sulmurz felt like he was going to explode. _That stuck-up little..!_ But he managed to keep his temper in check; Záhovar would not be pleased if he beat her new protegè up. Kaelun ignored him as he stood and made for the door.  
”I'm leaving that in here,” he growled with a nod towards the candle. ”Burn yerself to cinders if ya wanna; I don't give a shit!” With that he slammed the door shut and completely missed Kaelun's wide-eyed, terrified look.  
  
  
As the worst pain abated, Praktash slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His face twitched a few times, then it distorted into a furious grimace as he looked at Záhovar. ”Get. The fuck. _Out!”_  
Záhovar turned and left the room without a word. Praktash took a deep breath and roared his anger, pain and fear until he had no air left to scream with. Then he inhaled again and closed his eyes, teeth clenched and bared. ”Calm down,” he whispered to himself. ”Calm down, calm down...” His breath hitched a few times and he looked at Graznikh with tearfilled eyes. ”Buddy... untie me, I don't wanna...”  
Once Graznikh was done hacking at the ropes, Praktash curled up into fetal position on the table, crying quietly.  
”Buddy,” Graznikh whispered. ”I failed ya. You didn't deserve this.”  
”This isn't your fault,” Praktash hissed.   
”I shoulda seen this coming, I shoulda-”  
”Shut _up!_ I don't wanna deal with this now, _please_... I just wanna pick myself up enough to get my brother outta this shit. Everythin' else can wait!”  
Graznikh nodded. ”Right. You're right, let get this shit over'n done with.”  
After a moment's rest, Praktash struggled to get back on his feet. Graznikh caught him as he collapsed.  
”Fuck this shit!!”  
”You sure this is a smart move? Maybe you should stay down for a bit.”  
”I _have_ to,” Praktash growled. After grabbing the edge of the table and using it as leverage he managed to push himself upright. At first he swayed a bit, then he shook the sweat out of his eyes. ”Let's get this over with.”  
  
Kaelun sat crosslegged on the mattress and played with the flame of the nearly burnt-out candles, seemingly fascinated with the wax. He looked up as Praktash entered.  
”Brother,” he breathed.  
”Yeah,” Praktash replied with an unsure grin as he knelt beside him. ”It's me.”  
”You look different.” A tiny crease appeared on Kaelun's forehead, the first sign of worry that Praktash had seen on him since they met again down in the witch's dungeon.  
”We're bein' set free,” Praktash whispered. Kaelun's eyes widened slightly and he leaned his head against Praktash's shoulder while wrapping his arms around his waist.  
”I wanna be free,” he whispered, ”but I don't wanna leave you alone here.”  
Praktash looked down and as he met Kaelun's eyes, he realised that the compulsion had released his 'brother' for the time being. ”No one's gonna die. Záhovar's gonna free ya, for real!”  
Kaelun smiled but his scent was suddenly thick with dread. When he spoke again, it was as if he was trying to reason with a stubborn child. ”Don't believe it, brother. It's not real, none of this is! You know this, deep down. The more you believe it, the more it'll hurt once our Ladyship proves ya wrong.”  
Praktash almost started crying again, because in Kaelun's words his greatest fear manifested itself and a part of him _wanted_ to believe him despite the horror it implied. But the compulsion was _gone,_ he was free, entirely free of its mind-twisting influence. ”I guess time'll tell which one of us is wrong this time.”  
Both jumped a little as the door opened and Graznikh peeked in.   
”You guys ready?” he asked.  
Praktash put an arm around Kaelun's shoulders. At the same time he wondered if Kaelun could possibly grow more afraid. ”As ready as we'll ever be.”  
  
Graznikh was not going to participate this time; he would only be there as a precaution in case Kaelun freaked out more than Praktash had done. He felt Záhovar approach and saw the compulsion shut down Kaelun's mind before she had even entered the room. The frail Uruk barely dared to breathe and looked as though his greatest hero and the love of his life had just walked in through the door. _Did I ever look like that around Whin? 'Cause if so... Shit._ He eyed Záhovar with concern; she both looked and felt tired after freeing Praktash and he worried that she would overexert herself. He readied himself for giving her some extra energy in case she ran out.  
Záhovar gave Kaelun as kind a smile as she could muster as she beckoned for them to rise. Praktash had no time to let Kaelun go; the lithe Uruk bounced up from the mattress in an instant.  
”Yeah, thanks for almost pullin' my arm out,” Praktash muttered and massaged his sore shoulder. Kaelun did not listen; he was too busy fawning over Záhovar. As she brushed his jawline with her fingers, his knees nearly gave out. Záhovar waited until he had steadied himself before speaking.  
”Kaelun... I will ask you something, and I want you to answer me truthfully. Not what you think I want to hear, but the truth as _you_ see it. Do you understand?”  
”Yes, my Ladyship,” Kaelun replied. ”I'll tell ya the truth.”  
”Good. Do you remember me? Not as Ladyship, but as Záhovar?”  
”No.”  
She frowned, but then she remembered. ”Do you remember me as Worship?”  
”Yes!”  
”Long ago, I gave you a promise. Do you remember that?”  
He nodded. ”Yes.”  
”Repeat it.”  
”'I will return, and I will free you'.”  
”Do you believe those words?”  
”I wanna believe them,” Kaelun whispered, and now his eyes were filled with insane horror. ”I tried not to, but I _can't!_ ”  
”Do you want to be free?”  
”No.”  
Záhovar frowned. ”Why not?”  
”'Cause there's nothin' there! It's all dark an' empty.”  
”He doesn't remember what it's like,” Praktash explained. ”I bet she planted this in him after I got kicked out, so he wouldn't get his hopes up an' try to follow.”  
”Khayri wasn't thrown,” Kaelun whispered. ”He was taken.”  
”Taken by whom?” Záhovar asked.  
”The Shadow.”  
She exchanged a confused look with Graznikh and Praktash, who both shrugged.   
”Enough of this,” she decided. ”Let us focus on the task at hand. Kaelun; follow me.”  
Once he was strapped down on the table, Záhovar set to work. Kaelun came much faster than Praktash had, perhaps because he was unharmed and did not resist her advances at all. It was much harder to break his compulsion, however; unlike Praktash, Kaelun clung to it with all his might and she had to stroke him to completion thrice before she could break its sway.  
The moment the compulsion faded, his whole body cramped and he let out a blood-curdling scream. Praktash caught his head before he hit it on the wood and held him as he panicked, thrashing and screaming as though someone was slowly peeling the skin off his body.  
”Kill me,” Kaelun wailed. ”Kill me, _kill me,_ KILL ME!!”  
”Should I leave you alone?” Záhovar asked quietly.  
”Yeah, if you wanna,” Praktash said. ”I'll sit with him 'til he calms down. Might take a while.”  
”I'll be outside if you need anything,” Graznikh added.  
”Kill me,” Kaelun whimpered and started screaming again.  
  


”How long're they gonna be in there?” Graznikh asked her much later. Kaelun had eventually fainted and Praktash had carried him back into the Lug-snaga quarters and closed the door behind them.  
”As long as they need,” Záhovar replied. ”When you have been under compulsion for as long as Kaelun has, it becomes a part of who you are. Losing it can be very traumatic. It also suppresses your own emotions; once it is gone, those emotions resurface.All of them, at once. And since you are unused to having them, of _feeling_ in such an unbridled manner, they become difficult to handle, if not impossible. That is why he cried whenever the compulsion receded earlier.” She sighed. ”He has a very difficult time ahead.”  
”How come I never felt like that?”  
”Possibly because you were not under the influence for very long, because you are an Orc and do not have the same weakness for it as Uruks have, because you are a berserker so the spell could not affect you fully, and because it was never used to control you in the way Kaelun and Praktash were. I was surprised that Praktash managed to resist at all when I began to tutor him. Perhaps the time he spent under compulsion before has given him some resilience.”  
”That didn't help much,” Graznikh muttered.  
Záhovar nodded grimly. ”Where is Margzat?” she asked.  
”No idea. He up and left. Didn't tell me where.”  
”You let him go. Why?”  
”I'm not gonna steal my buddy's vengeance from him!”  
”Vengeance?! If I allow one Low Officer to betray me, they all will!”  
”Not if I can help it,” Graznikh growled. ”Skai, can't we leave the Tower politics just for a little while?”  
” _Everything_ is Tower politics!” Záhovar glared at him for a moment, then she shook her head slowly. ”And what would you have me do? Just let it go?”  
”Nar, just drop it for now and leave the decision to Praktash. He got the worst outta this deal, don'tcha think it's fair that he gets to call the shots once the air's clear?”  
”If the witch has not already ended him. Margzat, I mean.”  
”If that's happened, then the problem's solved.” Graznikh threw a look at the door to the Lug-snaga quarters before going over to the table and pouring himself a mug. He filled another after giving her a questioning glance. ”What happened back there? All I know's what I picked up through the bond and what I saw in that bath room, and that shit wasn't pretty.”  
Záhovar took the mug he brought her and sat down in an armchair. ”Gîrakûn had him infected by some kind of parasitic creature. He will carry its eggs within his body for a week or two until they hatch, and then the larvae for another four to five weeks.”  
Graznikh scowled in disgust. ”What, like a gut-worm?”  
”Far from it. Please... I do not wish to relive that memory. Not now. If you insist, there's a dossier in my pack with a more in-depth description of the procedure.”  
”I don't need to know the details,” Graznikh said. ”So now he's carrying those eggs. What next?”  
”We wait, catch the larvae when they come out, send them to Blog Shakâmb and hope that it will be the end of it all.”  
"What about that tooth you found?”  
”I will seek an audience tomorrow. But for now, there is nothing we can do but wait. You and Sulmurz will sleep in my bed tonight; I doubt that Praktash and Kaelun will want any of us near. And...” She looked away with a bashful expression as Graznikh grinned and a wave of warm feelings hit her through the bond. ”I do not wish to sleep alone.”

 


	6. To Learn To Live

After what felt like an eternity, Kaelun abruptly fell silent. Praktash was worried that the strain on his hammering heart had finally proved too much for him to handle, but a closer look told him that he was still breathing, nostrils flaring, and his open eyes darted back and forth in the dark. Not knowing what else to do, Praktash tried to give him some spiked ghâshpau but Kaelun did not react when he pressed the drinking skin to his lips. After a while he stopped trying and simply sat there with his brother's head in his lap until he managed to go to sleep.  
As time passed, Kaelun remained unresponsive to words; he twitched whenever Praktash moved or touched him but refused to speak or eat. Seven tolls passed before he took his first sip of water. He barely slept; mere moments after falling asleep, he would wake up screaming from the nightmares that wracked his mind. While awake he switched between raving panic and apathy. Praktash could not leave the room; every now and then he would break out of his shell and immediately look for his brother. He panicked whenever someone other than Praktash was in the room, so they were more or less isolated; Graznikh left food and water on a tray outside the door.  
  
One night after Kaelun had calmed down enough to rest after waking up from his most recent nightmare, Praktash sat with his brother's head in his lap as he so often did, playing with his hair and stroking his chest and shoulders.  
”Brother,” he whispered, tasting the word in his mouth. ”Brother... Didn't know I had a brother. Didn't remember any of it until I saw you back there.” He brushed a few sweatsoaked strands from Kaelun's damp face. ”I wish I'd known. I wish Záza had told me.”  
A nail had been hammered into the wall near the foot of the bed. It was the nail where he used to keep his healer's bag; now it was empty. The bag itself was lost somewhere, either down in the Uruk garrison or somewhere in Blog Shakâmb. There had been a lot of valuable tools and drug samples in it but for the moment, Praktash had no wish to replace it. He had overheard Sulmurz's recounting of the conversation he had had with Kaelun before Záhovar freed his mind, and he had been there when Záhovar spoke to him. He knew all too well why Kaelun had said 'no' when asked if he wanted to be free; lust-compulsion was _easy_. Having no control meant having no responsibility; despite all the horrors it brought, it was a carefree way of life. There were no decisions to make, no worries for the past or the future. When your entire existence was in free fall, how could you care about anything but the fall itself? Even though he had been free for a long time, a small, obnoxious part of his mind preferred the fall and Praktash hated himself for it. He also hated the fact that he could hate himself, but not the one who had brought it all back.  
Praktash winced as he pressed his forehead against the wall. _'Zat... If I ever find him, I'll kill him. I'll kill him!_ But even as he thought the words and tried to convince himself that he meant them, he knew it was a lie. The memory of Margzat's betrayal was too much; it felt like a hole slowly opened in his chest, tearing out his heart and leaving a black, gaping void in its place. Praktash began to cry, rocking back and forth, desperately trying to keep himself from breaking down completely for his brother's sake. Then he felt a hand cup his tear-drenched cheek. He opened his eyes and looked into a pair of glowing, amber ones.  
”Why d'you cry?” Kaelun whispered.  
Praktash tried to fake a smile. ”It's nothin'.”  
”You never cried for nothin'. You never did.”  
”..Fine. I'm cryin' 'cause I got hurt.”  
”By her?”  
”Nar, by...” Praktash stared at the wall. ”There was this guy... Big, black skin an' hair, red eyes... had the finest arse I'd ever seen...” He laughed a little through the tears. ”I thought we had a thing goin', somethin' good. But then... Then he sold me out like I was nothin'.” He growled at the memory and punched the pillow. Kaelun sat up next to him, slowly, as if he had just remembered how to use his limbs.  
”T'wasn't real,” he whispered. ”Just another lie. Don't believe it; you know nothin's real.”  
”If it wasn't real, then why does it hurt so much?” Praktash asked, already knowing what Kaelun would answer.  
”It hurts 'cause you believe it.”  
”Nar, this _was_ real!” He bared his fangs. ”'Zat was real, just like Graz an' Sully an' Záhovar...” he fell quiet when he noticed Kaelun's wide-eyed stare. ”What?”  
”Why...” Kaelun began and paused to swallow. ”Why do you know that name?”  
Praktash smiled bleakly. ”Thought that was just a lie too, did ya? Nar, she's real.”  
”But... she can't be. She can't!” He began to shake and Praktash sighed.  
”Look, let's drop this for now. Let's drop _everythin'._ You hungry? I've got some food here an' you haven't eaten in a while.”  
Kaelun nodded, but the moment the first spoonful of rich, savoury broth reached his tongue, his eyes grew round and he spat it out.  
”It's just broth,” Praktash told him. ”Nothin' bad, I promise.”  
”It's not food!”  
”It's not the slop we got in Blog Shakâmb, sure. This is better. See? It's good.” He took a spoonful in his own mouth and swallowed, but Kaelun had already closed up again. Now he was leaning against the wall, hugging his knees.  
”It's not good,” he whispered. ”It's wrong, it's not real!”  
”What're you talkin' about?”  
”Mustn't eat that,” Kaelun whispered, shaking his head slowly. ”Mustn't, it's too good, just a lie...”  
Praktash sighed. ”Brother, it _is_ real. You have to eat or you'll starve!”  
”Free,” Kaelun whispered. ”I'll be free...”  
”I won't let you kill yourself!!” Praktash snarled. He grabbed Kaelun's arm with one hand and forced him to face him. ”You hear that? Not after all the shit I've been through! You go an' die, you make all what happened happen for no bloody reason!” Kaelun opened his mouth, but shut it again when Praktash growled a warning. ”Tell me it's not real. Go on; I fuckin' dare ya!”  
  
Kaelun shied away. ”You're different.”  
”Yeah, I am,” Praktash replied. ”Real life does that to ya. It changes ya, an' not always for the better!”  
”I don't wanna change,” Kaelun whispered.  
”You'd rather be alone an' miserable for the rest of your life? You'd rather go back to havin' nothin' an' bein' no one?”  
”It'd be easier...”  
”Easier's not always better! Skai...” Praktash put the bowl away before anger made him throw it at the wall. He tried to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the mattress, but doubled over as he felt a stab of pain in his lower abdomen. ”Fuck this shit! Fuck it all!!”  
”I don't understand,” Kaelun whispered.  
”I don't give a shit.”  
”That's what he said.”  
Despite it all, Praktash started laughing and gasped as his sore muscles protested the abuse. ”Ow, fuck, it hurts! Oww...”  
Kaelun did not seem to notice, or more likely; he did not understand. ”Where are we?”  
”In Lugburz,” Praktash replied once he managed to stop laughing. ”Záhovar's quarters.”  
”It looks the same as before.”  
”'Course it does; all the furniture's gone. All dungeons look the same without furniture. We had it taken away so you wouldn't hurt yourself.”  
”I couldn't. I'm not allowed to.”  
”Good,” Praktash grunted. ”Then I can have 'em return the brazier; it's fuckin' freezin' in here.” He winced a little. ”Or maybe I've a fever... That'd be just great.”  
  
A light tap on the door interrupted them. With some effort, Praktash got up and opened the door. Outside it, Záhovar was waiting, looking as cool and indifferent as ever.  
”How is he?” she asked.  
Praktash threw a glance into the room. ”Not good. He's awake, he's hungry an' I tried to feed him, but he won't eat 'cause 'it's not real'.”  
”And you?”  
He frowned. ”Me?”  
”Yes. You.”  
He winced. ”I don't wanna think about it.”  
”May I come in?”  
”Sure, but he started screamin' whenever Graz or Sully did.”  
”Perhaps it will be different with me.”  
Praktash gave in and opened the door. As Záhovar entered, he returned to Kaelun who was now lying with his forehead pressed against the wall.  
”We've got company,” Praktash whispered. Kaelun frowned ever so slightly and turned his head to look. As he spotted Záhovar his eyes widened, but he did not scream this time.  
”You are afraid,” Záhovar said. It was no question, but Kaelun nodded. ”Why?”  
When Kaelun spoke, it sounded like something was forcing the words out of his mouth.  
”It's not back,” he whispered. ”It always comes back. But... My Ladyship's awake, an' it hasn't...”  
”Do you want it to?”  
His brow creased slightly as he shook his head.  
”But you do,” Záhovar continued. ”You fear it but you want it. Why?”  
”Záhovar,” Praktash said anxiously but she ignored him. Kaelun's eyes brimmed with tears and he squeezed Praktash's hand when it landed on his shoulder.  
”It's easier,” he whispered between the sobs. ”Easier when I know it's not real.”  
”Because if it was, it would mean that you have something to lose.”  
”Maybe we should do this another time,” Praktash said as Kaelun began to cry even harder.  
”No, we should not.” Záhovar replied. ”This is necessary, and I will see it to the end. It will be painful for him, but it cannot be helped. If it disturbs you, you may leave.”  
”No,” Kaelun whimpered. ”Don't take my brother.”  
”Is your brother real?” Záhovar asked and held up a hand as Praktash opened his mouth to protest. Kaelun looked up with wide eyes but did not meet her gaze.  
”If he is not, why does it grieve you so to lose him?” Záhovar pressed. ”Do you believe that he is real?”  
  
At first, Kaelun made no sign that he had heard her. But then he latched onto Praktash's waist with both arms, as if he was hanging above a chasm and Praktash was the branch saving him from certain death.  
”Yes,” came the defeated moan. ”I want him to be real! Please be real, brother, _please..!_ ”  
”I _am_ real,” Praktash said exasperatedly. ”I'm not leavin' ya, I promise!”  
Záhovar hid a smile as she sat down on the floor. _The first wall is down._ Then she waited in silence as Kaelun cried hysterically and Praktash tried to comfort him.  
Praktash was thoroughly pissed off. _After all he's been through, you're gonna put him through another mindfuck?!_ ”What the fuck are you doin'?” he mouthed at her.  
”Healing him,” she mouthed back. Praktash frowned. _What?_ Then he looked down as she pointed. Kaelun had gone silent and still, and at first he feared that something had gone terribly wrong. But as he put his hand on Kaelun's back, the amber-eyed Uruk lifted his head and looked at Záhovar with eyes that were far clearer than before.  
”Is everythin' real?” he asked hoarsely.  
”No.”  
”How... How will I know what is?”  
”In time you will learn how to do so. But for now, listen to your brother. Praktash knows, and he will not lie to you.”  
”Will it return?”  
”I cannot see into the future but by my hands, it will not. And I will keep it that way for as long as I am able.”  
”What won't return?” Praktash asked.  
”That which pushes _me_ away,” Kaelun whispered.  
”The compulsion,” Záhovar explained.  
Praktash shot her a venomous glance. ”So you can promise him stuff like that, but not me?”  
”I did not place you under compulsion.”  
”But you used it! You used _me!_ You had me crawl all over ya an' you did nothin'!”  
”I did not enjoy controlling you like that, and I deeply regret having to. I did not want what happened in the Trench, I tried to stop it, but...” She paused. ”Can you tell me in all honesty that you would have followed me out of Blog Shakâmb and all the way to Lugburz at the pace we held of your own free will? Without breaking down on the way?”  
Praktash wanted to shout back, to curse her, to be angry with everything, but he could not. He quickly looked away and pressed a hand to his mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle his sobs.  
Life seemed to return to Kaelun's eyes at the sound and he sat up and wrapped his arms around Praktash's neck and shoulders without a word.  
Záhovar sighed. ”If there is anything within my power that I can do to make up for what happened to you, then I will. You need but say the word.” With that, she left them. Kaelun's amber eyes followed her all the way until she closed the door behind her. Then he looked at the bowl of cold broth. ”I'm hungry.”  
Praktash gave him an incredulous look. ”Really?”  
Kaelun nodded. As Praktash took the bowl and lifted the spoon towards him, he looked at it as though there was a live scorpion on it. He pinched his eyes shut and snapped his teeth shut around it.  
”Easy, brother,” Praktash murmured. ”Don't bite it off. You might break a fang.”  
Kaelun obeyed and released the spoon. The moment he had swallowed, he doubled over and threw up.  
Praktash sighed. ”I'll get a towel.”  
”More.”  
Praktash stopped halfway up. ”What?”  
”No towel,” Kaelun murmured. ”More.”  
”...Alright.” He sat back down and took the bowl again.  
When the next mouthful hit the back of his mouth, Kaelun threw up again. Since his stomach was empty and had been for quite some time, only bile came up. Praktash wiped his mouth with a corner of the blanket and held his hair back as he convulsed. But despite this, Kaelun still asked for more. Praktash began to worry that he was trying to harm himself somehow, but Kaelun's face was set with determination. After the third spoonful he doubled over again, but this time he pressed both hands against his mouth and tried to force the liquid back down. A drop of bile dripped from a nostril as he struggled. Soon his convulsions calmed somewhat and he removed his hands and sat back up.  
”You did it?” Praktash asked. Kaelun nodded with a face of weary surprise. ”You did it! Well done, brother! You'll be an expert at this in no time.”  
The corners of Kaelun's mouth twitched a little. He soon eyed the spoon again. ”More.”  
”You sure? Y'don't think you should rest a little first?”  
”I'm still hungry.”  
”Sully's gonna freak out when I tell him to clean up this mess,” Praktash muttered as he picked the bowl up once more.  
  
  
”No,” Záhovar said sternly. ”If the taskmasters drive them harder, there will be no slaves left to repair the road! As you should have told him.” A few nights had passed, nights during which she had been buried in work. Her request for an audience with the One had gone unanswered, but the Quartermaster had requested her attention and soon she was tangled up in the complex labyrinth that was Tower administration. There was so much to do and she simply could not be in several places at once, so she had been forced to rely on Graznikh and Sulmurz to represent her. Unfortunately, Graznikh's lack of diplomacy and patience with the arrogant High Officers turned out to be a load of work in itself.  
”Aye, I tried to,” Graznikh grunted in reply, ”but he wouldn't have it. Kept insisting, in fact, and said you were being too soft.”  
Záhovar rubbed her temples with a soft groan. ”Oh darkness...”  
”Don't worry, I told him to go fuck himself.”  
Her eyes widened. ”You cannot say such things to the Lieutenant of Lugburz! He could have you killed for such insolence!”  
”Well, he didn't.”  
She sighed. ”I will go to him later. We are supposed to work together, after all. Void knows he does not make it an easy thing to accomplish, however...” She trailed off as she noticed an amber gleam from the entrance to the Lug-snaga quarters. Kaelun was peeking at them from behind the doorpost, something that he had never done before. Záhovar smiled at him, glad for the distraction, and held out a hand towards him. ”Come.”  
Kaelun moved as if in a trance as he left his hiding place, arms wrapped around his chest. He was still wearing nothing but the black silk loincloth, but it did not seem to bother him. Záhovar wondered if he had ever worn anything else and made a note to requisition new clothes for him . Kaelun kept his gaze fearfully fixed on the floor as he stopped in front of her.  
”How are you feeling?” she asked softly.  
”I'm afraid,” he whispered back.  
”Of what?”  
”Him.” Graznikh arched an eyebrow as Kaelun nodded at him without lifting his gaze.  
”Aye, 'bout what happened in Blog Shakâmb,” Graznikh said. ”Didn't mean to scare ya.” Kaelun frowned slightly but did not answer.  
”He will not touch you again,” Záhovar assured him. ”In fact, I forbid him to.”  
”You own me, âmbal,” Graznikh murmured with a lopsided grin that Záhovar returned. Kaelun did lift his head as he heard this, but without looking at anyone in particular. He quickly looked down again as Záhovar spoke.  
”Have you eaten?” He nodded. ”Did you like it?” Another nod. ”Where is Praktash?”  
”I'll fetch him,” he whispered and turned to leave.  
”No.” Kaelun froze. ”I merely want you to tell me where he is.”  
”In bed,” he replied as he turned back. ”Sleepin'.”  
”Good,” Záhovar said. ”He exhausted himself while watching over you; I am glad that he has finally found peace enough to rest.”  
”I'm sorry,” Kaelun whispered after a moment's hesitation.  
”Why?”  
”For keepin' him from ya.”  
”No tasks were required that others could not perform. You need him more than I do for the time being.” She tilted her head a little. ”Why do you hide your hands like that?”  
  
Kaelun's eyes widened in horror and he began to tremble. Graznikh frowned as Praktash's twin bit his lip to keep from crying; he looked like he had just walked into a torture chamber specially made just for him. But even though tears began to form and trickle down his cheeks, he removed his hands from where he had hidden them and held them out to Záhovar, looking like he fully expected her to crush his fingers with a hammer at any moment.  
Záhovar studied his hands, and she thought she understood why he was so afraid; in the time that had passed since they departed Blog Shakâmb, Kaelun had not been able to file his claws. Praktash had once told her that he trimmed his claws because Gîrakûn had implanted the need to do so in him. Neglect had been punished with torture of a kind that caused him to have intense anxiety attacks if his claws were left to grow even the slightest, even years after he had escaped the witch's clutches. Kaelun had undoubtedly been subjected to the same kind of 'training'. Now his claws were almost fully grown out, and he kept staring at them like they were monsters threatening to eat him alive.  
”Do you wish to keep your claws?” she asked. Kaelun breath hitched repeatedly as he shook his head. ”Then you may ask Praktash to help you trim them when he wakes up.”  
Kaelun sunk to his knees as Záhovar took his hands. ”I'm sorry,” he cried. He looked so pitiful that Graznikh became uncomfortable.  
”Should I... go fetch yer dinner?”  
”Do so,” Záhovar replied and Graznikh left with a sigh of relief. Once he was gone, she looked down at Kaelun who was still sobbing and whimpering beside her. ”Kaelun? Look at me.”  
He shook from fear and was nearly hyperventilating, but still he lifted his head and met her gaze with wide eyes and chattering teeth.  
”I will not hurt you for this. I know that Gîrakûn did so, but I am not her. I will not treat you the way she did. I know that you do not trust me, but-”  
”I trust!” Kaelun blurted out. ”I live to please my Ladyship, to serve my Ladyship, I want nothin' more, nothin' else! I love ya, I worship ya, I-” His jaws snapped shut as Záhovar held up a hand to stop him, releasing his hands in the process.  
”You are very brave to have come out here alone even though you were so very afraid,” she said as gently as she could. ”I am glad that you managed to overcome that fear.”  
Kaelun frowned slightly at those words. ”I have... pleased my Ladyship?”  
Záhovar hesitated briefly, but decided that this was not a good time to correct him. ”Yes, you have pleased me.”  
The corners of his mouth twitched a little. He snivelled and wiped the tears from his face. Then he looked up again. ”My Ladyship..?”  
”Yes, Kaelun?”  
”May I kiss ya?”  
Záhovar was a bit taken aback by the unexpected request. ”Why?”  
”I want to please,” he whispered. Záhovar was not sure that she liked the turn things had taken, but she could see none of the mad desire that had ruled him when under compulsion. Now he only looked lost and frightened.  
”Just a kiss?” Kaelun nodded with innocent, hopeful eyes. ”...Very well.”  
Once more, Záhovar noticed how tall Kaelun was. He towered over her as they both stood, but he seemed not to notice. He gave her a bashful little smile, the first genuine one she had seen on his face since she released him, and hesitated for a moment before he closed the distance between them. Soft lips brushed hers, butterfly touches at first before deepening the kiss. His tongue silently asked for permission before parting her lips while the fingers of a hand buried themselves in her hair and pulled her closer. Záhovar felt her body respond to the touch as his other hand wandered down to rest at her hip; she still remembered how good those hands had felt...  
Kaelun inhaled softly. Then his eyes snapped open; his pupils were so wide that his eyes were nearly black; only a thin line of amber could be seen in each corner. The chair fell over and Záhovar hit the wall hard as he shoved her body backwards with his own, blindly tearing at her clothes. She screamed as his fangs savaged her shoulder; the moment after, he tore her robe down the front and pulled her close, forcing her legs apart and prodding blindly. Then Praktash was there, pinching Kaelun's jaws hard and forcing him to let go.  
”I'll patch that up once I've calmed him down,” he said while restraining his wildly flailing twin. Záhovar nodded and swallowed hard. She pulled her torn robe together as best she could while Praktash dragged Kaelun away; he kept staring at her with mad eyes and even clung to the doorpost as Praktash shoved him back into their bedroom. The moment the door slammed shut, she walked over to the bed on trembling legs and collapsed on it.  
  
Praktash tried to drag his frenzied brother over to the bed, but it was no easy task. Kaelun jerked forward and slipped, accidentally kicking Praktash's shin and making him lose his grip. He dashed towards the door on all fours but Praktash caught him again before he reached it. He gave up on trying to get him to the bed and pushed Kaelun down on the floor instead; there he straddled him to keep him from escaping. Once Kaelun realised that he was trapped, he let out an uncharacteristic growl. A hard slap broke his frenzy a little and he refocused on Praktash. ”Lemme go!”  
”Nar, I won't.”  
”I _need_ her!!”  
”Nar, you _want_ her; that's different. You're horny an' you went for the closest target. Not the smartest choice you coulda made, so you'll probably thank me for stoppin' ya once you're back in your brain.”  
”But... But...” Kaelun groaned and bucked unconsciously.  
Praktash grinned. ”Look; I'll show ya how to do it. Hands on your cock, like this. Easy brother, don't cut yourself; that's the way. Now move, hand or hips, whichever way you like it. G'won!”  
Once Kaelun had figured things out, Praktash got off him and sat down on Graznikh's bed while his brother furiously wanked himself into a stupor. It took quite some time for him to wear himself out but once he was done, Praktash came closer and sat down on the floor beside him. ”Feelin' better?”  
Kaelun shook his head. ”I want _her,_ ” he whispered just before he fell asleep. Praktash covered him with a blanket and watched him sleep for a while with a concerned frown before leaving to check on Záhovar. She was sitting on her bed, still visibly shaken.  
”Do you have an explanation?” she asked quietly when he sat down beside her and began to examine her injured shoulder.  
”He's been under compulsion pretty much all his life,” Praktash replied. ”That's all he knows, he doesn't really know what it's like to feel things on his own. I'd guess he liked whatever you did or let him do a bit too much an' lost control. He's never had to learn how to keep himself in check; the compulsion did it for him.”  
”So this could happen again?”  
He frowned a little as he smelled her fear. ”Could be, 'least until he's learned to control himself. Guess I'll just have to watch over him 'til he does.”  
”How will you be able to guard him night and day? You must sleep at some point! He could have killed me with ease. If he lacks all self-control, then-”  
”So what happened before he jumped ya?” Praktash interrupted her while taking a closer look at her neck. ”Somethin' musta happened to trigger this.”  
”He... asked me for a kiss.”  
”An' you let him? That wasn't the smartest move.”  
”I was unaware of the danger! How could a simple kiss possibly trigger such a reaction?”  
”Master, you're among _Orcs_ ,” Praktash pointed out with a smile. ”We might pretend to be good little snaga, but you know what we're like when riled. Fightin' or fuckin', it's all or nothin'; there'll always be a point when we stop thinkin' an' just _do._ My brother might be a mellow little thing most of the time, but he's no less an Orc than the rest of us. Graznikh's the most unruly bastard around here, an' you handle him just fine.”  
”Hardly,” Záhovar murmured.  
”Hardly unruly or hardly handled?”  
She smirked. ”A little of both, I would say.”  
”Bloody right about that,” Praktash murmured with a mischievous little smile. ”An' you love every moment of it.”  
”But Kaelun is not Graznikh,” Záhovar said. ”I must admit that he... frightens me.”  
”I told ya; I'll keep an eye on him. Both eyes, until he's learned a little. In the meantime, try not to rile him.”  
”It will not happen again.”  
”Oh, I don't know,” Praktash said with a grin. ”I get the feelin' it _will_ happen. An' when it does, you'll like it. He always was a quick learner, an' I figure he's learned a sweet deal from ya.”  
Záhovar's cool mask fell off and she gave him a flustered look. ”How did you..?”  
”Let's just say that compulsion doesn't leave you all blank in the head; I was in there with ya in the Trench, remember?”  
”I did not enjoy that! You of all people should know that things can be far more complicated than they appear.”  
Praktash tensed up and tended to her shoulder in silence, but after a little while he turned away with a sharp sob and pressed a fist against his mouth.  
”Praktash,” Záhovar said quietly. ”I did not mean to-”  
”I don't wanna remember!” he hissed. ”I don't wanna remember!!” He turned back when Záhovar placed her hands upon his shoulders and gave her a helpless look.  
”You need not run from me,” she whispered. Praktash nodded briefly before falling forward onto the bed and let the mattress muffle his cries. Záhovar continued to stroke his shoulders throughout, whispering words of comfort in a tongue neither of them understood.  
  
  
Long after Praktash's tears had dried, the door opened and Sulmurz came in carrying a tray laden with food. He was merrily chatting with Graznikh, who looked more than a bit concerned and immediately sought out Záhovar with his eyes the moment he entered. At the same time, Kaelun came out of the Lug-snaga bedroom. His hair looked combed and not a single stain was left on his body or loincloth.  
”Hey brother,” Praktash said. ”Thought you'd sleep all night.” He frowned as Kaelun ignored him. Instead, the little Uruk went straight to Záhovar and sank to his knees before her.  
”I'm sorry,” he said quietly. ”I disobeyed my Ladyship.”  
”And do you know how?” Záhovar asked stiffly.  
Kaelun nodded with an expression like he was knowingly walking into his own grave. ”I tried to rape her.”  
Sulmurz almost dropped the tray.  
”He _what?!_ ” Graznikh roared.  
”Oh, c'mon!” Praktash exclaimed. ”He wasn't himself!”  
”What the fuck's this about?” Graznikh growled, but Záhovar held up a hand to silence them all.  
”This is between Kaelun and me. Your input is not requested.” She looked down at him. ”Shall I tell them to leave?”  
”That's not my place to say,” he replied.  
”And if it was?”  
He shook his head. ”I would let them watch. Take part. I deserve it.”  
Graznikh went over to Praktash. ”What the fuck happened here?” he whispered.  
”Záhovar let him kiss her an' he frenzied,” Praktash whispered back. ”Tried to do a repeat of the Trench, only it didn't work as planned.”  
Graznikh gave Praktash a bewildered look. ” _That's_ what this is about?” He chuckled a little as Praktash nodded and sat down in an armchair, noticeably more relaxed.  
”Give me your hands,” Záhovar told Kaelun. As he did so, she turned them so that his half-grown claws were visible. ”Your punishment is this; I forbid you from trimming your claws until I see fit to lift that ban. You will instead learn to manage with them.”  
”For fuck's sake!” Praktash shouted. He jumped up from the chair and stopped threateningly close to her. ”You know what not trimmin' them'll do! I told ya how that feels! You can't just-”  
”Brother, stop it.” Praktash stopped talking but forgot to close his mouth as he turned to stare at Kaelun. The little Uruk calmly placed himself so that he shielded Záhovar with his own body.  
”She can, an' she will,” he continued in the same quiet, steady voice. ”She's our Ladyship; our place is to obey. Nothin' else is real.”  
Praktash gave him an incredulous glare. ”Don't call her that! She's Záhovar, not... that other thing!”  
”She is!” Kaelun protested and became more and more agitated. ”You shouldn't protect me from her when I was the one who hurt! I _hurt_ our Ladyship, tried to _force_ her!”  
The two Uruks stared each other down for a moment before Praktash rolled his eyes and made a dismissive gesture. ”Fine, whatever. Be a snaga.” He stomped over to an armchair and slumped down on it with a sulking expression.  
Graznikh snorted. ”Buddy.”  
Praktash glared at the wall. ”What?”  
”Let's get outta here.” He nodded towards the door when Praktash glanced at him. After a moment's hesitation, Praktash got up and followed him.  
  
Graznikh left the bedroom and led the way to the large balcony. ”You know what you need?” he asked as he stopped by the parapet.  
”A punch to the gut,” Praktash answered sullenly.  
”Nar, you need to get out and you need to get drunk.”  
”I'm not in the mood.”  
”Nar, and you probably never will be if you stay in here. C'mon buddy, just a little trip down to the alehouse near the third garrison. If it doesn't cheer ya up, we'll go right back.”  
”Can I even drink booze with this thing inside me?”  
Graznikh grinned. ”Oh, you can. No worries.”  
”How the fuck would you know?”  
”I read the instructions.”  
Praktash scowled with disgust and humiliation. ”I have _instructions_?!”  
”A whole bloody manual, in fact. Easy buddy,” he said when Praktash began to curse. ”It's probably for the best, if it keeps ya safe'n sound. You _and_ those wiggly cubs o' yours, I guess.”  
”Don't fuckin' call 'em that!!” Praktash shouted. ”This isn't what I meant when I said I wanted babies! Shit..!” He buried his face in his hands with a low howl.  
”Ya sure you don't want that drink?”  
”...Nar. But... Not tonight. I'm too bloody exhausted. An' what about that brother of mine? He freaks out whenever I leave.”  
”Shoulda thought of that before you followed me here. But don't worry 'bout that; I'll have a chat with Záhovar'n set something up.”  
”Fuck, he's probably torn the place down,” Praktash groaned.  
”I think we woulda heard it if that was about to happen,” Graznikh commented. ”But let's get back inside, if you wanna.”  
Praktash looked sceptical but when they returned, Záhovar's quarters looked the same. Only the uppermost floor had been furnished so far, so Záhovar took her meals in the lounge where a round table had been placed. Now she had moved there; Sulmurz sat next to her and Kaelun knelt beside her chair with his cheek against her thigh. Sulmurz kept throwing him envious glances every now and then. Záhovar gave Praktash and Graznikh a nod of greeting as they stopped by the table.  
”So,” Graznikh said cheerfully. ”Dinner, eh? What's served?”  
”A special dish, all for yer pleasure,” Sulmurz answered. ”Just in from Morigost. Zosh sends her regards.”  
”Well, fuck you too!” Graznikh snickered as he sat down at Záhovar's other side. ”Quit ruining my appetite!”  
”Hey, brother?” Praktash asked. ”You hungry?”  
Kaelun looked up and nodded. After one last purring brush with his cheek against Záhovar's knee he stood and began to walk towards the Lug-snaga quarters.  
”Hold on,” Praktash said. ”Where you goin'?”  
Kaelun gave him a confused look. ”To eat.”  
”Not in there! It's proper time you joined us out here. Can'tcha see the chair there? It's yours.”  
Kaelun stiffened and his bare heels scraped against the stone floor as Praktash tried to push him towards the dinner table. After a few tries, he gave up with an exasperated sigh. ”Now what?”  
Kaelun gave him a pleading look and shook his head. ”It's not... It's not...”  
”It is permitted,” Záhovar said.  
”See?” Praktash grinned. ”Nothin' to be scared of.”  
When still he hesitated, Záhovar spoke again. ”Will you not join us? I know that it is not what you are used to, but I prefer to keep my snaga close. It pleases me to watch you eat. And if it is not too much pressure, I should very much like to hear what you think of the food, after.”  
After another moment's hesitation, Kaelun walked up to the chair next to Sulmurz and sat down on it after Praktash pulled it out for him. Once there, he stared at his fidgeting hands and refused to look up except for a few shy glances at Sulmurz, who tried to ignore it and focus on his food.

Záhovar was the only one to use utensils or indeed even plates. The Orcs had simple tinplate trays and ate with their hands. Since most, if not all, other High Officers were Men, their food often contained vegetables, dairy or grain-based dishes; the Orcs only shared Záhovar's meals when meat or the occasional fish was on the menu. Tonight's dinner was potato cakes, fried bacon, some kind of red, sour jam and, most importantly, black pudding.  
”Well, that's one step forward,” Praktash said as he took the last chair between Kaelun and Graznikh.  
”Sure is,” Graznikh replied. ”Oi, Sulmurz? Fancy black?”  
”Only if it's pudding,” Sulmurz replied while filling his tray with another fistful of said foodstuff.  
Praktash only gave them a wry smile.  
”Can't say I fancy Mannish food,” Sulmurz continued, ”but this here pudding's not too bad.”  
”I've had better,” Graznikh replied. ”Remember what we got in the outpost when we got back from the Crags? _That_ was pudding!”  
” _That_ was only good 'cause we hadn't eaten anythin' but rations for weeks,” Praktash said. ”'Sides, we were all too drunk to really taste it anyhow.”  
Sulmurz snorted. ”After a few years in Morigost, ya learn never to taste anything unless ye're dead drunk first.” He threw a glance at Kaelun, who was watching him intently. ”You gonna eat yer food or just drool over mine?”  
Kaelun quickly looked away.  
”Says the one who's eatin' for seven,” Praktash sneered. ”You keep at it an' we're gonna have to widen the doors.” He took some pudding and placed it on Kaelun's tray. ”Here; try some o' this.”  
Kaelun took a small bite and chewed it slowly, turning the piece over and over in his mouth.  
”D'ya like it?” Praktash asked.  
”I think so,” Kaelun replied quietly.  
”Feel free to taste the rest as well, if you wish,” Záhovar said when she noticed him eyeing the golden-brown potato cakes. ”And whenever you feel unsure about something that you wish to do, you may always ask for permission. I will not punish you for that.”  
Kaelun's lips twitched a little as he nodded and pointed at the cakes. ”I wanna... taste those.”  
”But they're _bland,_ ” Praktash protested mildly as he placed one on Kaelun's tray along with a spoonful of the red jam. Kaelun dipped a finger in the jam and tentatively licked it off in a manner that made Záhovar's cheeks darken a little. Graznikh shot her a nasty leer.  
”Well, so are _you_ , but d'ya see us complainin'?” Sulmurz sneered, oblivious to what had passed.  
” _You,_ ” Praktash hissed, ”are bloody offerin' it up for me! Count yourself lucky I'm not in the mood, or you'd be face down, arse up on your own bed for dessert!”  
”Of _course_ I'd be... If that's not bland, I dunno what is!”  
Graznikh slammed his fist into the table and made Kaelun jump as he started laughing.  
”Ouch!” Praktash exclaimed. ”That was almost a good one! _Almost._ ” He chuckled as Sulmurz grumbled something incoherent into his mug. Kaelun looked back and forth between them with a confused little frown.  
”Let's keep things straight,” Graznikh grinned. ”Fucking and food doesn't mix well.”  
”Oh, I dunno,” Praktash drawled. ”I recall a certain sausage-related event you didn't seem to mind _at all_...”  
”Oh for fuck's sake,” Sulmurz groaned as Graznikh choked on his drink and began to laugh again.  
”I did _not_ need to know that shit!” he exclaimed.  
”There so _much_ you need to know, Sully... By the way, d'you like sausage?”  
Sulmurz took a deep breath, but Záhovar intervened before he could start shouting. ”Behave! I suffer enough bickering among my peers; if you insist on continuing down this path, then take it downstairs where I need not hear of it.”  
Kaelun stiffened up and Praktash caught the quiet wheezing sound that meant that he was close to panicking but tried to keep it under control. ”Alright, enough excitement. You done, brother? Otherwise we can bring the tray back to bed. In any case, let's get some rest. Again...”  
  
”A good plan,” Záhovar murmured as she watched them leave. ”Lug-snaga?”  
”Aye,” Graznikh replied. After helping her with her armour and removing his own, he stretched with a pleased wince before crawling into bed, where the other two had already snuggled down among furs and duvets.  
”Quit yer shovin',” Sulmurz snarled.  
”Move yer dandy arse then, afore I move it for ya!”  
Sulmurz groaned. ”Ya just _had_ to say it like that, didn'tcha?”  
”You do overdo the accent at times,” came the snickering reply. ”Why don't you just lay off it? We both know you don't talk like that for real.”  
”Because I _like_ it! Besides, yer darn westerner's speech doesn't make any sense either. 'For the everlovin' fuck'...”  
”It's all I have left of my happy youth! Cut a guy some slack for being nostalgic, will ya?”  
” _That's_ what it is?”  
”...Or maybe I just sound awesome.” He yanked on the duvet and ignored Sulmurz's protests as he turned to his âmbal. ”Hey. How's the bitemark?”  
She smiled faintly. ”Better than it was.”  
”Want another one?”  
”Not today.”  
”Aww... Guess I'll have to make do with Sulmurz then.”  
Sulmurz stopped smiling. ”What?”  
”Just joking,” Graznikh replied with a leer. ”I'm not that into you... yet.”  
”Wait, _what?!_ ”  
The only reply was muffled laughter and Sulmurz rolled over with a frustrated snarl.  
”Don't turn yer baaack..!”  
Sulmurz quickly turned back with an expression that made Graznikh laugh even harder. ”I'm just messing with ya, quit glaring at me like that!”  
”Gimme a fuckin' break,” Sulmurz growled. ”Ya don't hafta take his bloody place an' play his part!”  
”Awright, awright... I'm just flattered, is all.”  
”I'm _not_ into you!!”  
”Do the both of you _mind?_ ” Záhovar snapped. ”I have no need of a headache on top of everything else!”  
”Fucking cures headaches,” Graznikh pointed out.  
”Says who?”  
”Praktash.”  
”I am uncertain as to why I even bothered to ask you that question... But in any case, I command you both to go to sleep or leave the bed, whichever you prefer.”  
”Sleep it is then,” Graznikh muttered.  
”Good. Sulmurz?”  
”Aye, master?”  
”Spoon.”  
”Aye, master.”  
”Graznikh?”  
”Yup.”  
”Come closer.”  
After some shifting and rearranging of pillows, duvets and other bedcloths, peace and quiet finally fell over the High Officer's little tower. Or, as much peace and quiet as could be had among purrs, mutterings, the faint din of the city below and the constant howling of the wind.  
  
  
A muffled sound woke Kaelun up. At first he thought he had found himself within another nightmare, but then he felt his brother's warm back against his own and remembered that Khayri had returned. _No, not Khayri,_ he reminded himself. _He's got another name now._ He rolled over to hug him, seeking the only comfort he had ever known. Comfort that had been denied him for so very long. _I wonder why he changed? First he was Khayri, now he's someone I've never met._ The sound that had awoken him returned, louder this time; a muffled yet distinct sound of pleasure. _Our Ladyship is enjoying herself... But none of us are with her._ Kaelun frowned; this had never happened before. Then he remembered that while the title was the same, the one holding it was not. Skin without wrinkles, cold eyes, hair a colour he had no word for... She, _she!_ Was she real or just a dream?  
It felt so strange, hearing those sounds without being surrounded by them, causing them. Kaelun was not curious. Curiosity would only get you involved, and that usually meant pain. _But the Worship only caused pain when she did_ not _want me. As Ladyship, is she still the same?_ He had no words for how glad he had felt the first time she hit him. Not for the pain itself, but for the implications of the act. For far too brief a moment, the thought that perhaps she did not want to use him the way all others did had become reality and Kaelun had treasured that moment ever since. Here was one, the _only_ one, who would not simply take and enjoy his unwilling services but who actively resisted them. She had told him so as well, but Kaelun had stopped listening to words long ago. Words could mean anything, there was nothing real about them. Until now.  
There had been so many words lately. Words directed at him, _to_ him, as if he meant something. As if he was real. Their siren call was so hard to resist...  
”Mornin', brother,” Praktash mumbled. ”Happy wakeup?”  
”I don't understand.”  
”Your dick's pokin' me.”  
”Oh!” Kaelun quickly moved away. ”Sorry.”  
Praktash began to roll over on his back but stopped halfway. Then he grinned. ”Were you listenin' to them?”  
”Who are they?”  
Praktash listened for a moment. ”Záhovar an' Sully, I'd say. She's too quiet for it to be Graz.”  
”She..?”  
”Yeah, don'tcha remember? Záhovar.”  
Kaelun's eyes widened a little in the dark. ”It wasn't a dream?”  
”Nar, it wasn't...” After settling down on his back, Praktash let him snuggle up close. Kaelun watched him stare into the ceiling with a slight frown.  
”Do you wish it was?” he whispered.  
”I don't know,” Praktash whispered back. ”I can't make up my mind about it, about anythin' really. I mean... I'm glad you're here, that's great. But... I wish I didn't have to pay so much for it.” He closed his eyes. ”Everythin' was so _good,_ an' then it all blew up in my face an' now I feel like I'm runnin' back an' forth, pickin' up scattered pieces of folks I used to know, tryin' to piece 'em together even though I know it won't bring 'em back.”  
”How was it good?” Kaelun whispered. ”How... How can things be good?”  
”It was good 'cause... Look, can we talk bout somethin' else? I can't... I...” Having nowhere else to turn, Praktash buried his face into Kaelun's hair. Kaelun returned the embrace; this was familiar, something he knew and had done before. His soft purrs broke the dam inside Praktash's chest and he wept quietly while Kaelun ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
A knock on the door startled them both. Kaelun frantically tried to shush him but Praktash pushed him away. ”Don't be silly, it's just Graz. Yeah, we're up!”  
The door opened and Graznikh peeked in. ”Morning buddy! And Kaelun. Ya hungry?”  
Kaelun did not reply, so Praktash did so in his stead. ”Yeah, we're comin'.”  
After dressing in what little clothing they had, they left the safe darkness of the Lug-snaga quarters, far too soon for Kaelun's liking.  
”I...” he murmured but fell quiet when the others looked at him.  
”Whisper it,” Praktash told him. He sighed as Kaelun did so. ”Alright. Mind if I eat out there?” Kaelun's lip immediately began to quiver.  
”Alright,” Praktash groaned. ”We'll eat in here. Buddy?”  
”Got it,” Graznikh replied. Praktash gave his back a longing look as he closed the door behind them again.  
Kaelun sat down on the bed again. He felt as though he had done something wrong, but he could not figure out what.  
”So what changed?” Praktash asked. ”Yesternight you were out there all the time.”  
”Yesternight was... yester.”  
Praktash sighed. ”Alright... but we really gotta work on this. I can't spend all my time in here, I got stuff to do! An' I can't bring you with me.”  
”I don't want to go out there.”  
”An' there's that too.” He went to open when Graznikh kicked on the door and took the tray. Then they sat down on the floor and began to eat. ”You have to toughen up a little, brother. We can't hold your hand forever.”  
”I _know,_ ” Kaelun whispered. ”But... How will you return? I was alone for so long, an' when I wasn't... How will I know that you'll come back? How will I know it's not just another lie?”  
”Oh, brother...” Praktash breathed and wiped the tears from his cheeks. ”I know it's hard, but... What if you weren't alone? What if someone who wasn't me was with ya?”  
”No,” Kaelun replied thickly. ”It's not safe... _I'm_ not safe. You saw what happened, I can't... I don't want that to happen again.”  
Praktash smiled. ”I wasn't talkin' about Záhovar. How about Sully?”  
Kaelun gave him a blank look and blinked. ”Sul... murz?”  
”Uh-huh. You didn't seem to mind him before.”  
”Sulmurz...” Kaelun murmured the name slowly, as if tasting it. _Sulmurz..._ He had protested when Graznikh assaulted him in the Ladyship's guest chamber. He had never touched or hurt him, never even tried. Did that mean anything? The Ladyship liked him, kept him close and if his brother's words were true, even let him touch her. That meant something. ”Sulmurz... Maybe.”  
  
”I think I've caught a spy,” Graznikh told Záhovar once they had finished eating and Sulmurz had left to find a Lug-snaga to take care of the dishes.  
”I shall assume that you have dealt with the person accordingly,” she replied.  
”Don't.”  
She gave him a cold glance. ”And why not?”  
”If he got all the way in here without being detected, he's got to have contacts. Someone's helping him, might be more than one too. Taking him in for questioning'll only send the others running back into the holes they came from; I wanna slice the whole web, not just pick the itty bitty spider in the corner.”  
Záhovar nodded; it was a sensible notion. ”Speak then, What is your plan?”  
”He's in the staff of one of the embassies, Khand I think; I also think he's behind the trouble with the second garrison's water supply. But I need Praktash's expertise to be sure, and I need it on the spot. This one's twitchy; I'd wager he'll bolt at the first sign o' suspicion on our part.”  
”So taking samples would be too obvious... But what of Kaelun?”  
”What about him?”  
”Who will watch over him? He is not ready to go outside, nor to be left alone. I have other work to do, and...”  
”Aye, about that...” Graznikh drawled while scratching his ear. ”I was gonna ask ya 'bout that. How 'bout Sulmurz? Can't he watch him for a while?”  
”Sulmurz?” Záhovar frowned. ”He is hardly the caring kind. Not to mention that he is afraid of him.”  
”Of Kaelun? Nar, he's just twitchy. He did fine earlier, didn't he? An' the poor guy deserves a breather, you've had him running errands up'n down the Tower for days!”  
Záhovar was silent for a moment, deep in thought. ”Kaelun is not to be underestimated. He is unreliable and far stronger than he looks. And I am not-... What are you doing?”  
Graznikh grinned as he withdrew his attention from the bond. ”Don't tell me the Shadow of the Great Eye is scared o' one little snaga? Can'tcha just yank his collar if he jumps ya again?”  
”Graznikh... He _has_ no collar.”  
”...Oh. Right. That complicates things, I'd wager.” He looked at her. ” _Will_ you collar him?”  
”Of course I will. But it is not made yet; that will take some more time.”  
”Sulmurz's a capable fighter, especially since I gave him some pointers. He won't let his guard down.”  
”If you say so... Very well. But what of-”  
”Resolved,” Praktash said as he entered the lounge with Kaelun in tow.  
”Great!” Graznikh exclaimed, startling Kaelun who shyly tiptoed into the bedroom and hid behind the doorpost. ”Now we just gotta inform the vic- I mean, the lucky chosen one.” A grumbling sound from the stairs made him grin. ”And when speaking o' gnats, they're stuck in your hair...”  
  
”I'm gonna _what?!_ ” Sulmurz could not believe his ears.  
”It's just for a toll or two,” Graznikh lied. ”You'll do fine.”  
”I'm not some bloody cubsitter! Like fuck I'll-...” Then he noticed Záhovar's icy expression and his voice faded into a croak.  
”This is not up for debate,” she told him sternly. ”You are Lug-snaga and will do as told.”  
Sulmurz wilted a little. ”Al... right. If ya say so...”  
”An' remember now Sully,” Praktash said cheerfully, ”no touchin' my brother in bad places! I know it's temptin' when you've got a nice, big, warm bed _all_ to yourselves, but you might not be able to handle the response...”  
Sulmurz gave him a look of pure revulsion. ”I don't fuck cubs, how sick is that demented brain o' yers?!”  
”Enough!!” Záhovar snapped and Praktash twitched a little as the collar grew cold around his neck. ”Go and do what I gave you this respite for!”  
”Aye, let's not waste any more time,” Graznikh agreed. ”Come on, buddy.”  
Sulmurz glanced towards the bedroom and gave Záhovar a meek look.  
”Good luck,” was all she said before following the others down the stairs, leaving Sulmurz to an uncertain fate.  
  
  
Kaelun sat in the bed's darkest corner, looking like he would rather sink through it. Sulmurz hesitated by the door. The little Uruk was almost creepier than Praktash, but so far he had made no advances on him or even mentioned anything of the sort, so Sulmurz decided to give him a chance. He grabbed his game satchel and sauntered over to the bed.  
”So... Kaelun, izzit?”  
Kaelun nodded shyly.  
”I'm Sulmurz, but ya already heard that from the lady. Ever played Orcs'n Tarks?”  
Kaelun shook his head.  
”Stones?”  
Another shake.  
”Eye?”  
Another shake.  
”...Right.” Sulmurz decided to go about things a different way. ”Ever seen something like this before?”  
Kaelun peeked at the dice in his hand and shook his head.  
”These're dice; they're used to play Eye, among other things. It's a game we play here at times to beat the boredom. Wanna play?”  
”I don't know,” Kaelun whispered.  
”Hnh...” Sulmurz frowned a little. ”How about givin' it a try? Then ya can decide after a few rounds if ya like it or not.”  
Kaelun gave him a shy glance. ”I don't know what to do.”  
”Don'tcha worry, it's real easy!” Sulmurz sat down crosslegged on the bed at what he thought would be a safe distance and took two more dice from the bag. ”Eye's real simple; see the dots on each side o' the die? Starts with one dot on one side, then two, then three and so on up to six. That's the amount o' fingers ya got on one hand and then add one from the other hand, by the way. Ya play by takin' three dice in yer hand, then ya shuffle 'em a little like this and throw 'em on the ground. Or... floor, bed, whatever surface ye're at. Then ya count the number o' dots that show. The goal's to get as few dots as possible with each throw without catchin' the Eye; 'at's when ya get one o' the single dots. If ya do, ya lose 'at throw. Get three single dots at once'n ye're outta the game. The one who's got the fewest points after three rounds wins the game. Got it?”  
Kaelun had not moved, but his eyes followed the dice as Sulmurz gestured. ”How do you decide?”  
Sulmurz looked confused. ”Decide what?”  
”How many dots to get.”  
”Err... Ya don't. Or, I don't think ya can control 'em like that. You just throw an' hope for the best.”  
”But then it's not you. The dice just fall. How can you say you win if you don't really do anythin'?”  
”Whu...” Sulmurz stared at him for a moment, then scratched his head. ”I guess that's why it's called a 'game'. It's just supposed to be fun, not a bloody battle.” He grinned. ”Some idiots might see it that way though. Be glad ya never hafta play 'gainst Kraash.”  
Kaelun did not reply and Sulmurz began to get a little creeped out by that amber stare. ”So, err... Wanna play?” He breathed a sigh of relief when the willowy Uruk nodded. ”Right! I'll throw first, show ya how it's done, then it's yer turn. Don't worry, I'll keep tabs on this here piece o' leather.”  
  
Kaelun followed the dance of the dice across the smoothed-out silken sheet as Sulmurz threw.  
”Now I'll count the dots,” he explained. ”One, two-”  
”Fourteen,” Kaelun said quietly.  
Sulmurz looked up. ”Huh?”  
”It's fourteen.”  
”...They just landed.”  
”It's still fourteen.”  
Sulmurz's eyes narrowed as he counted the number of dots. _Fourteen._ He counted them two more times just to be sure. ”Hnh. Looks like you're right.” He took a charcoal stick and added fourteen lines in groups of five on the leather. ”Now it's your turn.”  
Kaelun timidly picked the dice up and rolled them in his hands the way Sulmurz had shown before dropping them on the bed. ”Nine,” he said as they stopped rolling.  
Sulmurz stared. He eventually came to the same conclusion, but it did not alleviate his confusion. ”How the fuck did ya count them that fast?”  
Kaelun's eyes widened as if he had been threatened and he quickly scooched back towards the inner corner of the bed.  
”Nar, wait,” Sulmurz said in what he hoped was a calming tone of voice. ”I didn't mean it like that. Come back here, I'm not gonna tell ya off. Tell ya what?” he tried when Kaelun refused to come closer. ”Why don'tcha keep tabs from now on? Ye're clearly faster than me; might make the game pace up a bit. Wanna do that?”  
The willowy Uruk looked sceptical at first, but after a while of silent debating he seemed to come to a decision and returned to where he had been sitting before. Sulmurz handed him the leather sheet and the charcoal stick and showed him where and how to add the lines. Then they kept playing.

Kaelun turned out to be even faster than Sulmurz had anticipated. He could tell what numbers would come out almost before the dice had stopped rolling and marked them down just as fast.  
”Hey now, ya gotta call out what number ye're writing,” Sulmurz said after a few throws. ”Otherwise someone might accuse ya of riggin' the numbers.”  
”Riggin'..? What's that?” Kaelun asked.  
”'S when ya write another number than what the dice show. Might be used to set yerself up for winning.”  
”I wouldn't,” Kaelun whispered with a frightened look.  
”Dun' worry, I won't call ya out on it if ya do.” Sulmurz chuckled a little as he saw the numbers Kaelun had written on the leather. ”Another thing; use the lines I showed ya, not Maushur. Not everyone knows what those scribbles mean, 'at's another thing what might get ya in trouble.” He cocked his head. ”Didn't think the witch taught ya how to read'n write.”  
Now Kaelun paled visibly. He tensed up as if expecting an attack and his lower lip began to tremble.  
”Hey, easy there cub,” Sulmurz tried. ”T'was stupid of me to bring that up. Won't happen again. Ya okay with that?”  
Kaelun shook his head which he had once again hidden as he curled into a ball.  
”Izzit 'cause I mentioned the witch?”  
Another shake.  
”...Didn't think I knew how to read, did ya?”  
Kaelun shook his head again with a sob.  
”Look; I won't tell. It'll be our little secret, 'kay? On one condition.”  
Kaelun lifted his head a little to give him a terrified peek.  
”You'll never use it 'gainst our master,” Sulmurz said sternly. ”Never pass information o' her doings to other Top Ones, never snitch. Got it?”  
”She's my _Ladyship,_ ” Kaelun whispered. ”I wouldn't ever do anythin' like that!”  
” _Our_ Ladyship,” Sulmurz corrected with a lopsided grin, ignoring the memory of the bitemark that said Ladyship currently carried. ”Then all's well. You keep shut and I'll keep shut. No need to worry.” Then he frowned. ”Where'd ya learn to read?”  
”In the... other place...” Kaelun hesitated at first, but when he continued speaking his voice was far steadier than before. ”There were always reports, lab results, correspondence, personal notes an' such on the desk. I was made to fetch things, books too. Was taught a few letters to recognise the right ones. An' sometimes I stood beside when... such things were read out loud. To others or... to the air. I was never told not to look at them, so I did when no one saw. I remembered what had been said an' which paper was read from an' pieced it together in my head.”  
”So ya learned all on yer own?” _That's pretty impressive,_ Sulmurz thought when Kaelun nodded. ”And the counting?”  
”Sometimes I was made to sleep on gravel,” the amber-eyed Uruk whispered. ”Or sharp pebbles or splinters of black fireglass poured on the floor to hurt me. I'd gather them up an' sort them by colour or size or shape an' count how many there were of each. Then I'd spread 'em out an' do it all over again an' again. I had nothin' else to do.”  
”Skai...” Sulmurz did not know what else to say. If half of what Praktash had said about compulsion was true, then Kaelun had lived through things far beyond his worst nightmares. And from what he had said just now, he had suffered more common kinds of torture as well. As Sulmurz glanced at him and noticed his haunted expression, he couldn't help but feel glad that the witch had not decided to off Záhovar and put him through the same. He tried to come up with something that might cheer the weird, squirrelly Uruk-snaga up a little, but it was hard. But then he had a bright idea and grinned.  
”Say, whelp?”  
Kaelun looked at him. ”Yes?”  
”Seein' as ye're good at counting... How 'bout I teach ya Stones? It's a game where counting's everything, and it's a game that ya can get better'n better at the more ya play. Whaddya say?”  
Kaelun seemed to brighten up a little, at least Sulmurz thought so. There was a glint of curiosity in his amber eyes as he nodded. ”Yes.”  
  
Sulmurz reached for his satchel and dropped the dice back into it. Then he pulled out a narrow, rectangular wooden board with two rows of shallow bowls cut into it, six in each row. In each end there was a larger, oval bowl. He also pulled out a bag filled with smooth little stones and placed four in each of the smaller bowls on the board.  
”See? It starts like this. The big bowls on the sides're Eye bowls, yours is the one to the right; see the Eye symbol on top? Ya start by takin' all the stones from a bowl on yer side. Then ya place one stone in each bowl towards your Eye bowl 'til you've got none left in yer hand. If you've stones left when ya reach the Eye bowl, then ya put one stone in it an' keep adding the rest to yer enemy's bowls 'til ya run out, but ya skip their Eye bowl if ya get that far. Ya can't skip bowls an' ya can only place one stone in each. And ya can only start with stones what lie in yer own bowls. The goal here's to get as many stones as ya can into yer own Eye bowl. If the last stone in yer hand lands in yer Eye bowl, then ya get an extra turn right away. If yer last stone in hand lands in an empty bowl on yer side, then ya get to take the stones from the opposite bowl on yer enemy's side'n put 'em in yer Eye bowl. The game's over when all the little bowls on one side o' the board're empty.” He thought for a moment. ”I think that's it. Wanna give it a try?”  
Kaelun nodded enthusiastically.  
  
  
Much later, Graznikh and Praktash returned after a decent night out. As they entered Záhovar's quarters, they came upon an unbelievable sight; Sulmurz and Kaelun were sitting on the thick carpet on the bedroom floor, happily chatting and laughing over a game of Stones. Praktash stared at his brother with wide eyes, mouth agape.  
”...An' there I was, trying to dig a bloody well right next to the river! Can you imagine their faces?!”  
”Yes!” Kaelun exclaimed with an astonished expression. ”What's a river?”  
”It's, err...” Sulmurz had to think for a moment. ”See this mug o' water? Now imagine a ditch, like a furrow in the ground, filled with water. Now imagine that furrow being real wide, so wide that ya can't jump over it and so long that ya can't see the end no matter how hard ya try; it'll take many nights o' walkin' to reach it. And the water inside moves on its own in one direction, like something was pourin' it out like this.”  
Kaelun watched in rapt fascination as Sulmurz poured the water out on the stone floor beside the carpet and stared at it as it hit the floor. After a while, he looked a little disappointed when it did not move in any direction. Both looked up as Graznikh chuckled.  
”Now there's a mismatched pair if I ever saw one,” he grinned as he hauled up a full drinking skin. Then he brightened up as he discovered a bowl of cracklings on a bench and brought it along as he sank into an armchair with a pleased grunt.  
”I just taught him a game,” Sulmurz said. ”Don't read anything into it.” He shot Praktash a sullen look as the drunk Uruk began to snicker.  
”Teachin' my brother how to play with your balls, are ya Sully?”  
Graznikh let out a gurgling sound as he snorted booze through his nose and started coughing and laughing at the same time.  
”Stones,” Sulmurz growled. ”It's fucking _Sto-_ Oh, never fucking mind. I dunno why I even bother!” He got up and stomped off into the Lug-snaga bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.  
”He's such a snaga!” Praktash snickered. ”I didn't even do anythin' an' he just goes off in all directions at once.” Then he looked at Kaelun. ”Hey, brother. You okay?”  
Kaelun sat quiet on the floor with a slight frown on his face, plucking a few pebbles into his hand and studying them. Then he carefully gathered them all up and placed them back into the bag Sulmurz had taken them from, placed the bag and the board in the satchel and stood without a word.  
”Kaelun?” Praktash asked.  
”Not now, brother,” Kaelun replied quietly as he left.

Sulmurz was lying on his bed with an arm across his forehead. He looked up as the door opened and Kaelun came in. The slender Uruk placed his game satchel next to him and sank down on Praktash's bed. ”Thank you.”  
”For what?” Sulmurz asked.  
”For teachin' me to play those games. I liked it.”  
Sulmurz shrugged. ”Always nice to have another gambling partner. 'Specially one what doesn't... Hnh.”  
”One who doesn't talk like my brother,” Kaelun filled in. ”You don't like him.”  
”Wouldn't bloody mind him if he didn't try to creep me out all the time.”  
”No one should be forced,” Kaelun whispered.  
Sulmurz glanced at him. ”Guess you'd know all 'bout it, eh?”  
Kaelun nodded with that absent look in his eyes. ”I won't do that to you.”  
Sulmurz nodded and tried not to look sceptical. ”Right.”  
”I know it doesn't look... I mean, after what I did to our Ladyship... But I won't! I don't wanna! Not to her, not to you, not to anyone! I've learned... I hope.” He looked down. ”If... If I ever try to... well, do somethin', anythin', that you don't wanna... Then you can hurt me if you like.”  
”Err...” Sulmurz had no idea what to say to that. ”That's... uh, good to know?” Kaelun did not smile, but Sulmurz thought that he did not look quite as depressed as before. ”So... Whaddya think 'bout it all? This here, I mean.”  
”I don't know yet,” Kaelun replied. ”It's too much, so many things happenin' all at once! When you're all talkin', I never know who to listen to or what to say.”  
”I don't mind,” Sulmurz said with a lopsided grin. ”Least ye're not like some I know who keep moving their mouths even when they've nothin' to say.”  
Kaelun looked puzzled. ”They just... move their lips? With no sound?”  
”Nar!” Sulmurz snickered. ”They talk, only the stuff they say is daft. Like this one guy; he went on for a full toll 'bout how the Eye should outlaw purple.”  
Kaelun had no idea what to say to that. ”But... why?”  
”Y'know, I've still no bloody idea! Worst part is, I couldn't stop thinking 'bout it. Left me sleepless for three days, tryin' to figure him out.”  
A little giggle escaped Kaelun's mouth and he promptly clamped his hands over it. Sulmurz gave him a surprised look. Then he grinned.  
”Wasn't sure ya knew how to do that. Guess I've got my answer now.”  
”I didn't think... I don't know... where it came from!”  
”From inside ya, I'd wager,” Sulmurz explained. ”'S just a sound ya make when ya hear or see something funny. Bit like growlin' when ye're angry, only the other way 'round.” He cocked his head when Kaelun did not reply. ”Cub? Ya okay?”  
”I think so,” Kaelun whispered. ”But... I think I should go to bed.”  
”Good thinkin',” Sulmurz replied with a jaw-cracking yawn. ”Lezz' get some shut-eye.”  
Sulmurz fell asleep almost instantly. Kaelun wrapped the blanket tight around himself but could not sleep; there were simply too many thoughts spinning in his head.  
_I laughed. I_ laughed _! Without that which made me do things,_ feel _things before. I didn't even try, I didn't think, it just happened. How did I do that? An'... my brother was gone. He was_ gone, _but it didn't feel like he was. I sat there with Sulmurz an'... I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid, an' I laughed. He..._ made _me laugh. Didn't force me or tell me to, but it happened anyway. Sulmurz..._  
A barrage of laughter from the main room made Sulmurz start awake. ”Some bastards need to learn to handle their drink,” he muttered sourly and gave the door a sleepy glare. Kaelun nodded, and there was a brief flash of white fangs as he smiled.

  
”Y'know; that might be the oddest pairin' I've ever seen,” Praktash said as he stretched out on Záhovar's bed.  
Graznikh tossed him the drinking skin. ”Sulmurz's right; I think you're reading too much into it.”  
”Oh, c'mon, you saw the same shit I did! They were obviously gettin' it on!”  
”You think 'no', 'stop' and 'piss off' are pickup lines, buddy. I'm not sure you've the authority to judge.”  
”Y'know you like it,” Praktash murmured with a purr. Then he continued in his normal voice. ”But look on the bright side; this means we can leave him with Sully an' go for a drink more often!”  
Graznikh chuckled. ”You really want him to take notes from that one?” He laughed even harder when Praktash gave him an exaggerated look of horror and regret. ”Besides, I think he'd go running to Záhovar and snitch on us if we did. Tell ya what; why don't we bring him with us next time?”  
”Sully? I'm not sure he's ready for that kinda adventures.”

 


	7. With Eyes Wide Open

A few nights later, Graznikh and Sulmurz dodged carts and parted crowds on one of the main streets down in the city. Záhovar was busy with a meeting and had decided that she had no need of her Lug-snaga for the time being, a notion which was fine with Graznikh; he had an important goal in mind that he had put off for far too long.  
”It's probably best if you hang around outside,” he told Sulmurz as they stopped outside the grey brick front of the semi-subterranean building that housed the fifth Uruk garrison. ”They don't know your face so they might not let ya in, and I need someone to point our master in the right direction if I don't make it out.”  
”Right,” Sulmurz grunted. ”How long?”  
”Gimme half a toll, that should be more than enough. You know what to do if I'm not out by then.”  
”Aye, cap'n!” Sulmurz chirped and gave him an overzealous salute. He snickered as his superior rolled his eyes and squatted by the street corner.  
”No need to overdo it,” Graznikh muttered before turning towards the garrison gate. Two guards were posted outside; they eyed him with bored expressions as he sauntered up to them.  
”Lug-snaga, here on High Officer business,” he said, answering the unspoken question in their eyes. ”I'm looking for something that's been lost and was last seen in here.”  
”Hasn't been any Officers visitin' this spot fer years,” one guard said.  
”Wasn't an Officer; it was a Lug-snaga, in the company of krîtar Margzat.”  
The Uruks shared a glance. _Yup, they know him._ Then they stepped aside. ”Get in.”  
  
There were no torches lighting the main hallway; there was no need for any since Orcs and Uruks alike saw well in the dark and fuel was hard to come by. Oils of various kinds were the main fuel source and as Graznikh stepped over the threshold to the main hall, he found himself wondering if there was a pit somewhere where obese Orcs or Men were bred and fed just to harvest the fat from them. _Judging by how this place is run, it wouldn't surprise me at all._  
The Uruks were eating well tonight; several braziers stood in a row on the floor and a large spit had been placed above them; on it, several arms and legs were roasting, dripping moisture and fat into the fire and making it sputter. From the smell, Graznikh deducted that it was Manflesh. Several eyes focused on him.  
”The fuck're ya doin' here, snaga? You're either brave or stupid.” Graznikh glanced over his shoulder; the Uruk krîtar who had spoken was not one he was familiar with.  
”Does it matter, when the Top Ones give an order?” he replied, casually knocking on his collar.   
The krîtar's eyes widened a little. ”Why's a snaga wearing one o' those?”  
”Oi, Graz,” a familiar voice chimed in from behind. ”Long time no see!”  
Graznikh arched an eyebrow as Urkhish appeared. He walked with a bit of a limp but seemed to be in good health otherwise. He was followed by Draumaturz and another Uruk.   
Draumaturz turned back into the hallway and roared that 'chief Graz' was back, and moments later Ghrazagh and Lîrnash pushed their way past the bewildered commander. Before he knew it, Graznikh had been lifted off the ground and dropped onto a strawbag, had a mug of booze pushed into his hands and got bombarded with questions from all directions.  
”SHUT UP!!” he shouted; the Uruks laughed but, amazingly, obeyed. ”We're all fine, as fine as can be!”  
”How's the dice-tosser?” Lîrnash asked. ”Still tossin'?”  
”Aye, his tossing got him all he wanted and then some.” The answer was intentionally vague; the Uruks snickered and shared a few lewd leers.  
”Poor li'l snaga,” Urkhish chuckled. ”Ridden dry, eh?”  
”But I didn't come here just to see yer ugly faces,” Graznikh said. ”I'm looking for something, and I'd wager you could gimme some leads.”  
”Oh?”  
”My buddy's healer's bag. It's gone and was last seen here.”  
Silence fell over the room.  
”Haven't seen yer buddy in ages,” Ghrazagh eventually said. ”Ya sure it was here?”  
”He was here with krîtar Margzat.”  
”Nar, 'at can't be right. Krîtar Margzat left us in Thaurband.”  
”I know, but-”  
”Hold on now,” the krîtar growled. ”You got orders!”  
”Oh?” Graznikh looked up. ”What about?”  
”None o' yer business, snaga!”  
” _Lug-_ snaga,” he corrected. ”And orders can change.”  
”This one doesn't.”  
”It just did.” He slowly got to his feet. The Uruk krîtar glared at him with bared fangs, furious at having his authority openly challenged in front of his pack by a supposedly weaker creature. But his snarl was soon cut off and his expression turned to shock as Ghrazagh, Lîrnash, Urkhish and Draumaturz all stood as well. Ghraznikh felt a little high as he realised that four Uruks just picked his side against one of their own kind. _That pack sense is bloody useful!_  
”The Top Ones' business isn't ours to meddle in,” Ghrazagh growled. ”We follow 'em, _all_ of 'em, no questions asked, no pickin' sides! Graznikh speaks with the voice o' the Shadow, one o' the Three, so his command overrules the other one. Ya go against 'at, ye're goin' rogue!”  
The commander sputtered a protest, but the other Uruks kept their distance and he was alone. Graznikh thought about holding back, but no. It was too long since he watched someone bleed at his behest. ”As far as I'm concerned, he already has.”

That was all it took. Ghrazagh pounced with Lîrnash close behind, bearing into the unfortunate krîtar with teeth and claws. The krîtar roared, a roar that soon turned into a howl that was abruptly cut off as Ghrazagh sank his fangs into the cartilage of his windpipe with a wet crunch.   
Graznikh watched the body sag to the floor. ”That was fast.”  
Ghrazagh shrugged as he spat out the crushed piece of windpipe. ”He had it comin'. An' I wasn't in the mood to play.”  
”So, about my buddy...”  
”Aye.” He wiped his mouth. ” We had orders not to mention him or Margzat. We were supposed to forget 'em both, but no one here knows where the order came from. We all had our guesses, but this idiot was adamant.” He kicked the head of the dead Uruk and turned to the other members of the garrison. ”What the fuck're ya starin' at?!” he bellowed. ”Get back to business, ye're burnin' the meat! Dufsagh; strip'n butcher this bastard afore he goes bad.”  
Graznikh waited for Ghrazagh to sit down and accepted the drinking skin he was offered. ”So Margzat was never here?”  
”Oh, he was, but only for a short while. An' I didn't see Praktash anywhere with him. I bet the other garrisons got the same order as us though, so talkin' to 'em won't get ya far.”  
”If I got an order to run messages and such, I could snoop around,” Urkhish offered with a glance towards Ghrazagh. ”Got some pals in the other garrisons, pals what don't mind talking a bit with the right incentive.”  
Graznikh peered at him through the smokey fire. ”Incentives can always be arranged.”  
Ghrazagh nodded. ”Get 'em talkin'; we'll sort out the rest, command to command.”  
Urkhish beat his cuirass in a salute but seemed reluctant to leave the company of his superiors. ”So... all's well then?”  
”As well as can be,” Graznikh replied. Urkhish nodded with a lopsided grin.  
Draumaturz joined them after he was done butchering the ex-commander's remains. He did not care to beat around the bush. ”How's Praktash?”  
”Fine, all things considered. Indisposed at the moment though; Officer business.”  
”Aye, that's just like him, eh? Picking bones left'n right.” Those familiar with the Uruk healer's personality guffawed at the remark.  
”That's my buddy alright,” Graznikh chuckled.  
”Well you tell him to get his arse down here once he's free,” Draumaturz grinned. ”There's plenty o' room for tumbles. Can't be good, keeping one's head stuck in ghâshpau fumes all night long.”  
”Aye, 'cause the air's so much fresher down here,” Graznikh snickered as he stood. ”I'll let him know. Don't expect him to show up anytime soon though.”  
”Got'cha.”  
  
  
When Graznikh left the garrison, Sulmurz was nowhere in sight. He quickly picked up his trail and soon found him by a table in one of the mess halls where the grunts of the Tower took their meals. A guard shift had just ended so the place was quite crowded.  
Graznikh had never had much reason to spend time at the mess, even when he was still living by East Gate; due to his outcast status, Praktash ate with the lowest of snaga and thanks to his size and reputation he nearly had free run of the place and thus ate fairly well. Graznikh, being an Orc soldier, could get his meals from the mess if he wanted to but had decided to stick with his buddy. Becoming Záhovar's trainer had given him access to far better fare than both slaves and regular soldiers. Lug-snaga, of course, never ate with the grunts, so he had never visited the mess hall where the regular soldiers ate.  
Graznikh had always been the odd one out. First because of his skin colour, then for shagging an Elf, being a foreigner, a berserker and last but not least for fraternising closely with the feared and despised ”Top Ones”. For all his tough talk, he sometimes felt left out and there were times when he resented the glass wall that came with the collar.  
Sulmurz was a weirdo too and after finding out about his past, Graznikh had secretly been hopeful that he would stick around and be just as much an outcast. Misery loved company, after all. But Sulmurz had walked through the glass wall like it did not even exist; he flaunted and disrespected his own standing in equal measure, pushed and pulled rank, catered favours, incurred debts and had a tight grip on the low-rank power play. Graznikh may be his superior and in charge in the Tower proper, but down in the bowels of the city he was at a disadvantage, alone and outnumbered. And he did not like it one bit.  
Sulmurz shot him a toothy grin as he spotted him elbowing his way through the crowd. ”Oi, chief! Wanna join for this one?” He tossed two dice into the air and caught them again.  
”Did I tell ya to abandon post? What the fuck're ya doing here?”  
The grin faded from Sulmurz's face. ”I, err... figured... Since Urkhish'n the others were there, that-”  
”You knew they were in there?”  
”Wha... Nar, they passed me just after ya left.”  
”And it didn't cross yer mind that they might've thrown their lot in with the traitor?”  
The mood at the table changed in an instant and suddenly Sulmurz was sitting in an empty space as all the grunts shuffled away. The sight gave Graznikh some measure of satisfaction. ”On your feet, Lug-snaga! The master'll deal with ya soon enough.”  
Sulmurz left the table and followed Graznikh towards the exit.  
”'Oi, you's owin' me sum!” one soldier complained, stepping out to block his path; Sulmurz punched him in the face without a word.  
  
”That was kinda over the top, don'tcha think?” Sulmurz grumbled once the din from the mess hall had faded behind them. ”'S not like I coulda done much anyway.” He croaked as Graznikh spun to grab the neck of his shirt and shoved him against the side of a cart.   
”The next time I give ya an order to stay put, you stay _put!_ ” Graznikh growled. ”Doesn't matter what familiar face you think you spot or how bloody boring it is; You stay in the same spot like your boots were fucking nailed to it! Got that?!”  
Sulmurz croaked something that might have been a 'yes', and Graznikh let him go.  
”The next time you disobey orders I'll leave ya with my buddy. _Alone,_ and without pants! See how you like hanging out with Praktash without anyone around to hold him back.”  
Sulmurz snorted and opened his mouth, but the next moment he found Graznikh's blood-red eyes inches from his face.  
”G'won,” Graznikh murmured softly. ”Trash talk my buddy all you like; just let it out. I'll recount every sweet word you say about him _while I fuck him_. Then I'll send the both of ya on a snuggly get-together in the dungeon and the only way you'll get a hold o' the key is by digging it outta his arse! ”  
Sulmurz quickly shut his mouth. ”Nevermind then.”  
”Good! 'Cause I'm not in the mood!”  
  
  
Back in the Tower, Kaelun clung to the gate post outside Záhovar's abode as if his life depended on it.  
”C'mon now,” Praktash coaxed. ”It's not far!”  
”Yes it is!”  
He sighed. ”Well, you wanted this! Don't blame me if she sends ya to fetch her food an' you get stuck on the threshold.”  
Kaelun swallowed hard and opened an eye to peer across the bridge. There was so much empty space, just a narrow strip of stone and rusty iron that was barely held together above an immense chasm, torn by the strong gale. How could he ever hope to cross it without being pushed off? And if he was, what if he kept falling forever?  
”What's going on here?” Graznikh asked as he and Sulmurz approached.  
Praktash turned around. ”Hey buddy! Just tryin' to teach my brother how to use his legs.”  
Graznikh gave the terrified Uruk by the gate a critical look. ”Doesn't go all that well, izzit?”  
Praktash rolled his eyes. ”He's bein' a wimp, is all. C'mon now!” he called. ”You won't fall, I promise!”  
”Aren'tcha goin' a bit fast with him?” Sulmurz asked, but no one listened to him.  
”The Ladyship didn't give permission,” Kaelun whimpered.  
”Now you're just graspin' at straws!” Praktash shouted.  
”Didn't she say that I was her mouth in times like this?” Graznikh mused. ”That you were to obey me as if I was her when she wasn't around?”  
Kaelun's eyes widened a little. Graznikh leered and beckoned for him to approach.  
”Now ye're just bein' a bastard,” Sulmurz growled.  
”Sometimes being a bastard's exactly what does the trick,” Graznikh replied without taking his eyes off Kaelun's trembling form. ”If the treat won't work, the whip will!”  
”That cub's barely dry behind the ears!”  
”And the dungeon's still open.” Sulmurz immediately fell quiet.  
Praktash arched an eyebrow. ”Did I miss anythin'?”  
”Nar!” Sulmurz snapped before Graznikh could speak.  
”I might explain later,” Graznikh leered. ” _Might,_ ” he emphasised with a telling look at Sulmurz. ”Now how about you give us a hand with your pal over there? This might get interesting!”  
Sulmurz glared at him for a moment before shaking his head and crossing the bridge. Kaelun did not eye him with as much fear as he did the others, but was still nervously biting his lower lip. Graznikh could not hear what they were talking about, but then Sulmurz pulled his shirt off. Praktash cooed loudly and shouted some very explicit insults at him, but Sulmurz ignored them. After tying the shirt over Kaelun's eyes, he grabbed his shoulders and led him forward. Following his guiding hands, Kaelun crossed the bridge without further protests.  
  
”There,” Sulmurz grunted as he put his shirt back on. ”Happy now?”  
”You liked havin' him behind ya, didn'tcha?” Praktash murmured at Kaelun, who pushed him lightly with darkening cheeks that Sulmurz failed to notice.  
”It works with horses,” he explained to Graznikh. ”If, say, the stable's on fire an' ya gotta get 'em out quick, ya tie a rag or some such over their eyes. Then they'll follow ya like dogs. I figured it'd work here too; if he can't see the danger-”  
”There's no bloody 'danger' here,” Graznikh chuckled. ”It's just a bridge!”  
”Aye,” Sulmurz sneered, ”an' the sea's just water.”  
”That's different, you saw the beast hiding down there!”  
”An' right there's a bloody long way to fall.” He pointed at the edge of the bridge. ”Now can we get back in? I'm hungry!”  
”We need to get the food first,” Praktash pointed out. ”An' we didn't come all this way just to go right back. Let's explore, look around a little!”  
”Um...” Kaelun hesitated as all eyes fell on him. ”Th-there's a problem... I think.”  
”Oh? Like what?”  
”There's no way out.”  
Graznikh frowned. ”Did Sulmurz's stinky shirt addle yer brains?”  
”There's a doorway right there,” Praktash said, forcing Kaelun's head in the direction he pointed. ”An' there, an' a corridor over there.”  
”I don't see any.” He fidgeted a little, then jumped as Sulmurz snapped his fingers.  
”The two o' ya're such fucking dolts,” Sulmurz snickered. ”'Lug-snaga' indeed!”  
”Care to let us in on the fun?” Graznikh growled.  
”He doesn't have a collar! Remember Záhovar tellin' us there's no way to find yer way 'round this place without one? He doesn't have one, so he probably sees somethin' completely different from what we do. Illusions everywhere, remember?”  
Graznikh and Praktash shared a sheepish glance. ”Alright, so you're the smart one now. We'll just hafta lead him. Got a rope?”  
The laughter died in Sulmurz's throat as Kaelun took his hand. He gave the Uruk a hesitant look and tried to pull away without being too obvious about it, but Kaelun held him fast.  
”Aaaaww!!” Praktash exclaimed ”That's just too _cute!_ ”  
Sulmurz threw him a murderous look. ”You... Shut... Up!!”  
”But you're adorable! Sittin' together, holdin' hands... You even taught him how to play with your balls! What _were_ you two up to that night, all alone in that big, cozy bedroom, hmm?”  
”Stick to that line o' talk an' I'll rip yer todger off while ya sleep!”  
”Gonna crawl up in my loincloth, are ya? What'll you do with it after?”  
”I'll throw it into the fire pit!!”  
”Y'don't want a taste first..? Give us both a happy endin'?”  
Sulmurz slavered with impotent rage, but Kaelun suddenly pulled him away. ”Let's go.”  
”Brother, quit ruinin' the fun!”  
”You wanted adventure. Let's go.” He eyed the stone surface before him.  
”'At's a wall,” Sulmurz pointed out. Kaelun gave him a brief smile and placed his hand on it. Trailing it with his fingertips, he soon found a spot where the seemingly solid rock fell away and the illusion began. Then he passed through.  
  
Sulmurz had no choice but to get dragged through the hallways. He had never seen the insides of the Tower without wearing the collar so he had no idea what the willowy Uruk saw, but every now and then he would stop short as if his way forward was blocked by something. At times he would duck under, step over or press himself against the wall in places where Sulmurz saw only thin air. He soon found himself wondering whether Kaelun saw illusions or whether he was the only one seeing things clearly. It was a disturbing thought.  
Eventually the hallway ended in a large, round hall with a high ceiling. Several other hallways connected to it wia pointed archways decorated with jagged iron scrollwork. Large braziers stood on each side of every doorway and between them hung banners adorned with the Great Eye symbol. Kaelun immediately pressed himself against the wall and refused to go any further.  
”It's just a hall,” Praktash tried. ”Y'know, like back in our tower, only bigger.”  
”This'll take all night,” Graznikh muttered.  
From an adjoining hall a group of Men emerged whose long, black kirtles and wide, chain-adorned belts marked them as working in the Tower administration. They were engaged in a heated discussion led by an unfamiliar low-ranking High Officer who looked quite vexed by the whole thing. He was accompanied by a smaller group of armed men; bodyguards, Graznikh guessed. They spotted the Orcs long before their master did and glared at them with disgust.  
”Orc-haters,” Graznikh murmured and Praktash hummed in reply. ”Let's get outta here.”  
”That is of no consequence,” the High Officer snapped. ”If they will not leave the building on their own, then send in the Uruks to clear the place! Menial labour is easily replaced; the creatures breed like rabbits, for good and ill. Bloodshed or no, that storehouse _will_ be empty come tomorrow; that is an order! Dismissed.”  
”But your Lordship; what about the-”  
”I _said_ 'dismissed'! If you wish to discuss this further we can do so tomorrow. Now get out of my sight!”  
The administrators bowed and left. The Officer was busy rubbing his temples when he noticed the Orcs by the corner. ”What are the lot of you doing here? Orcs are not allowed on this level!”  
”We're Lug-snaga in service of the Shadow,” Graznikh replied while tugging his collar to make sure it was seen. ”Just showing the new-bloods around, make sure they don't get lost.”  
”Is that so,” the Officer murmured with a telling glance towards Kaelun, who was still stuck to the wall. His followers grinned, and not in a friendly way. The Officer frowned and gave him a more scrutinising look. ”Wait a moment... I recognise this one. Is that not lady Gîrakûn's serving boy?”  
”He's with the Shadow now,” Praktash growled.  
”Our master received him as a gift,” Graznikh clarified.  
The Officer arched an eyebrow and turned to adress Kaelun. ”Snaga! Who is your master?”  
”M-my Ladyship,” came the barely audible murmur. Praktash groaned.  
”As far as I know, lord Záhovar does not recognise that title,” the Officer commented. ”And everyone knows how lady Gîrakûn wants others to address her. What's more, I see no collar. How do I know this is not some mischief on your part?”  
Graznikh returned his glare with equal animosity. ”You wanna sort this out with the Shadow? Really?”  
”No,” the man replied. ”I think I want to sort this out with the Lieutenant. March, Lug-snaga.”  
”You've no authority o'er us!” Sulmurz snarled.  
”Actually he does,” Graznikh muttered and seethed at the Officer's smirk. ”Too high-ranking to be below Lug-snaga.”  
”So the slave knows his place. Good to hear! Now move it; I don't have all day.” He glanced at Praktash. ”Perhaps the Lady herself will be pleased to have her snaga returned to her.”  
At those words, Kaelun bolted.  
The Officer's face twisted in a furious grimace. ”Catch it!!”  
  
Kaelun heard his brother's shout for him to stop. He also heard the sound of armoured feet coming his way. He ignored both. He did not even know why he ran; going back would be nothing new. And yet _something_ had taken hold of him at those words, a fear greater than anything he had felt so far. All he knew now was that he _had_ to find his Ladyship, his Worship; she was his only solace, the only salvation. So he ran.  
Not knowing if the next doorway was real or not broke his momentum somewhat, but Kaelun was used to that. He had spent most of his life being tossed from one nightmare to the next, outrunning demons whose mere appearance threatened his sanity and he had failed to do so over and over; simple illusions such as these were nothing in comparison. Illusions were dependent on the belief of those subjected to them; a strong will could shatter even the strongest mirage and Gîrakûn had, perhaps unknowingly, trained her former pet well. It had become a game for them both, a twisted cat-and-mouse chase between tormentor and victim where she would come up with new inventive ways to make him believe. But to Kaelun, reality was far worse.  
Reflexes sharpened by adrenaline, he jumped the moment the ground fell away under his feet and rolled when giant, thorny tentacles shot out of the ceiling and walls to rip him apart. Of course, a moment always came when there would be an end to the running. That moment came as he rounded an invisible corner and entered an empty hall. Not knowing whether the wall on the other side was an illusion or not, he did not stop in time to avoid crashing into it.  
Dazed by the fall, he shook his head to clear it. White mist rose from the floor, twisting and coiling before materialising into a strange shape in the middle of the corridor. Kaelun stared as the wraith reached for him, and he knew that it was no illusion this time. Through it he could see his pursuers pan out to surround him, oblivious to the danger. Kaelun defended himself the only way he knew how to and screamed.  
  
”How the fuck can he run so fast?!” Graznikh panted. ”He can't even see where he's going!” They had ignored the High Officer's command to stay put and followed the soldiers as they pursued Kaelun, but had fallen behind as some of them turned back to delay them. The fight had been a short one, but long enough to make them lose sight of their quarry.  
Suddenly they heard Kaelun scream nearby, a roar that rose to a high-pitched shriek. The next moment a soundless shockwave hit them and all three fell over.  
”The fuck..?” Sulmurz grunted as he sat back up. Praktash jumped to his feet and ran into the hall from whence the scream had come. As he disappeared around the corner there was another scream, this time from him. Graznikh and Sulmurz hurried after him but skidded to a stop when they spotted the gruesome scene.  
The floor and walls of the room were plastered with red. Bodies or what was left of them lay in a half-circle around where Kaelun stood. All of them had strange, jagged cuts, as if they had been shredded to pieces where they stood and there was no sign of a struggle. The youthful Uruk stared with wide eyes at some point on the ground and made no sign of having noticed them.  
”Skai...” Graznikh breathed as he looked around.  
”Someone made mincemeat outta them,” Sulmurz muttered. ”What the fuck _happened_ here?”  
”Brother?” Praktash walked up to him, taking care not to slip in the gore; Kaelun flinched hard and looked up as he placed his hands on his shoulders. Then he buried his face against his neck with a sob.  
”It's alright,” Praktash whispered. ”It's alright. C'mon, let's go back home.”

  
  
When they returned, Záhovar was waiting for them. ”Give me one good reason as to why I should not lock the lot of you up in the dungeon and throw away the key!”  
”'Cause then we'd burrow right through the tower base in frustration,” Praktash retorted, ”an' that'd undermine the whole place and send it crashin' down into the city below.”  
”This is no time for your tasteless jokes!”  
”I know! So let's stop arguin' an' calm things down instead.” He let Kaelun tumble down into a reclining chair and followed suit. The amber-eyed Uruk shied away when Záhovar stopped beside them, hiding his face in the nape of his brother's neck.  
”This was forced upon a mind nowhere near ready to handle the chaos of the Tower,” she murmured. ”What happened out there?”  
”Well, he killed a bunch o' folks,” Graznikh replied.  
Záhovar looked up. ”What?!”  
”It was an accident,” Praktash added. ”He was scared an' lost control!”  
”What _happened?_ ”  
Graznikh scratched his head. ”I'm not sure, to tell the truth. One o' the Top Ones was in a foul mood'n tried to pull rank. I wouldn't have it so we shouted a bit back'n forth. He recognised Kaelun as one o' the witch's, Kaelun got scared'n ran, and then...” He shrugged. ”The Officer's Lug-snaga got to him before we did. When we got close, he screamed like... I dunno what, and then there was a blast o' air what felled us like timber even though there was a wall o' stone inbetween.”  
Záhovar frowned. ”Describe it.”  
”Well...”   
”They were lyin' in a circle 'round his feet,” Sulmurz said. ”Bodies all chopped up, ready for the pot.”  
”Never seen anything like it,” Graznikh said. ”There was blood way up the walls.”  
”Chopped up...” Záhovar whispered. ”Or sawed?”  
Graznikh and Sulmurz shared a glance. ”Aye, that's a better word. Sawed up.”  
Záhovar looked down. ”Kaelun?”  
Kaelun peeked up at her with haunted eyes. ”Yes, my Ladyship?” he whispered.  
”Are you familiar with the wraithsword spell?”  
As he nodded, the smell of fear peaked to such intensity that Graznikh sneezed. He had never seen anyone be so frightened and still be able to speak without stuttering, despite the fact that Kaelun's teeth were chattering loudly.  
”Why did you use it?”  
”I didn't mean to,” he whispered. ”I was so scared, they tried to hurt me, an'... It just happened. I didn't mean to!”  
”Then why are you upset?”  
Kaelun's voice sunk to little more than a breath. ”Because my Ladyship never knew. She would hurt me very bad if she knew. And now... now she knows.”  
”Kaelun,” Záhovar said in a stern voice. ” I will do no such thing. I... approve of what you did.”  
The amber-eyed Uruk shot his brother an unsure look and Praktash gave him a nudge of encouragement.  
”I will not punish you for this,” Záhovar continued. ”You were in trouble, and you defended yourself the only way you knew how to so that you could serve me longer. That is a good thing, and I approve.”  
Kaelun smelled a little less frightened, but Praktash could feel that he was still tense. He knew why; the witch would often lull them into believing that danger was over, because their screams sounded sweeter when the punishment was a surprise. Kaelun had never learned to trust and was still convinced that pain would come in one shape or another. But now he was ready for it.  
”However,” Záhovar said and Kaelun twitched, ”I will say this now; I forbid you from using sorcery without my leave again. If you want to do so, you will ask for my permission first. I will not punish you for asking. I may say yes and I may say no, but I will not hurt you for it. Do you understand?”  
Kaelun nodded. ”I will ask my Ladyship for permission to use sorcery when I wanna do so.”  
”Good. I also forbid you from running away the way you did. If you feel afraid or if someone tries to hurt you, you will go to Praktash, Graznikh, Sulmurz or me.”  
”I will go to my Ladyship or those she mentioned if I'm scared,” Kaelun whispered.  
  
Praktash nuzzled Kaelun's soft hair as he watched Záhovar leave. Kaelun watched her as well, no less tense than he had been during the conversation. Then Praktash had an idea.  
”Hey, Záhovar?”  
She turned to look at him. ”Yes?”  
”You're one mind-messin' makatok, y'know that?”  
Kaelun squeaked and dug his fingers into Praktash's sides. Graznikh snorted and shot him a big grin. Sulmurz had just poured himself a cup of booze and taken a mouthful. That mouthful left him in a spray the moment Praktash's words reached his ears. ”What the fuck is _wrong_ with ya?!”  
Záhovar gave him a look of pure outrage. Praktash winked at her and glanced down at Kaelun, hoping she would take the hint. Her eyes narrowed briefly, then she gave him a creepy little smile and turned back to the desk without a word. Sulmurz kept cursing over Uruks and their disrespectful mouths until Graznikh gave him a friendly slap in the back of his head.  
Kaelun was staring at Praktash with wide eyes. ”You mustn't,” he whispered. ”It will hurt, there will be so much pain!”  
”Nar, there won't be,” Praktash replied with a smile. ”Záhovar isn't like that. In here, when there's just us, we can question an' argue as much as we like. She lets us do that.”  
”But...” Kaelun frowned. ”If there's no pain, why would you wanna question?”  
”'Cause even Top Ones can do stupid stuff, stuff that might go bad later. If one of us figures out a different way of doin' things, we tell her an' she decides whether that'd be smart or not.”  
Kaelun kept staring at him and repeatedly opened and closed his mouth as if trying to say something but not finding the words. It was clear that the confused and fragile Uruk had had something of a mental shortcircuit at Praktash's words.   
Praktash chuckled and bumped his nose against Kaelun's cheek. ”Don't worry. You'll get it in time, an' when you do, you're gonna be a bloody pest.” Kaelun gave him an unsure smile and looked down, feeling embarrassed but not knowing why.  
  
  
Praktash's sleep was interrupted by nightmares that night.  
  
 _Khayri whimpered as the compulsion faded and he recognised his surroundings. He would have recognised them even when compelled, but the mind control made it hard to focus on anything other than his Ladyship's wishes. Large iron shackles covered his lower arms from the wrist up to the elbow and his legs from the ankle to the knee, keeping him securely bound on all fours on the floor, legs spread wide and inviting. A position from which there was no escape. Khayri swallowed hard and struggled to keep his breathing under control.  
Talons clicked against stone and another little whimper escaped him. He had already been brutalised a mere ten days ago and he was not sure that whatever was left of his sanity could handle a repeat. Not like this, with his groin already packed full to bursting with whatever that monster had left inside him! But somehow the Beast seemed to know that he could not fight back. It took its sweet time now that he was helpless._

_The miasma suddenly overwhelmed him and he retched, but he had not been given anything to eat recently so all that came up was a bit of bile. Soft, hairlike feelers brushed his spine in a mockery of soothing. Khayri tried to escape into the learned helplessness that was his own safe little corner when the Ladyship was in a playful mood, but even from there another whimper escaped. He tried to wriggle away, but bony, three-fingered hands landed on his hips and held him steady.  
_ ” _Stop,” Khayri sobbed as the monster caressed him. ”Just get it over with!”  
The Beast did not listen or understand. Perhaps it had no ears. Perhaps it simply did not care. They both knew what it wanted, and there was no escape before it had had it. Had _him. _But the hands did not crush his limbs in the vicelike grip the Beast had used while breeding him. Now they held him just tight enough to keep him steady as the feelers brushed further down, over his rear, his balls and even caressed his cock briefly before moving back up until they reached his ears, tickling the sensitive tips. As this routine was repeated over and over, Khayri felt his fear abate a little, but he sternly reminded himself that it was a false comfort. 'It's just another trick. This creature doesn't care any more than she does.'  
But the soothing caresses awoke a hunger for tenderness that should not even exist, for if the witch found out it would be used against him. Khayri fought back with all his might but his mind latched onto the feeling and betrayed him utterly. He wanted so badly for _someone _to care that even a falsehood and a monster was better than nothing._

_A single tendril tickled the sole of his left foot and slithered up his thigh. Khayri squeezed his eyes shut as it traced the muscles on his left buttock before continuing up over the small of his back and down the right leg. When it moved up again, it had a second one in tow. A second pair of hands grabbed his shoulders to keep him from jerking forward. Now that the tendrils moved slowly, Khayri could feel that the 'fingers' on each tip were more like four-pronged pincers that could be used to pick things up or explore. Now the Beast used them to explore_ him _, seemingly fascinated with his pointy ears. Khayri tried to shake them off, but one bony hand grabbed the back of his neck and head and held him steady.  
_ ” _Please,” he moaned as his eartips were teased and suckled. ”I don't wanna... I don't wanna! Please!!”  
  
The heavy, wet mass of tentacles suddenly fell down on his lower body, wriggling and probing. Khayri panicked and began to thrash and scream, but there was no assault even now. The monster waited until he had calmed down somewhat, chittering metallically and caressing his upper back with its feelers. Khayri tried to ignore it; he did not want this to feel good, did not want to be lulled into that false sense of security that his Ladyship delighted so in shattering. But even so he could not help but gasp as a single tendril dipped into his arse and briefly flicked over the swollen obstruction that pressed against his spine. Little stars twinkled behind his fluttering eyelids at the sensation. It felt so _good _..._

_The Beast kept doing that, flicking and nudging, just hard enough to cause tiny sparks of pleasure, giving just enough to wet his appetite for more until compulsion-fueled arousal pumped through every fibre of his being. This was worse than the brutal invasion, because it did not overwhelm his senses but rather left him quietly begging for more. The tentacle withdrew briefly to intertwine with others, forming a far larger 'rod'. Khayri pushed back unconsciously as they rubbed between his buttocks, groaning in frustration as they held back.  
A horridly familiar sound reached his ears. ”Nar... Nar, not again, I can't take anymore!!” Khayri began to hyperventilate as the monster's breeding organ found the tip of his cock. ”Please!!”  
An eternity passed, but no invasion came. Khayri hung his head low and tried to understand what was happening. Why was it not splitting him apart like it had done the last time? What was going on?  
  
An involuntary gasp escaped him as his rear got probed again, and he desperately tried to keep from moaning as he was stretched and filled. This tenderness was so alien, he could not even remember being treated gently before unless it was a ruse. The stalk began to envelop his cock and he steeled himself for pain, but the egg depositor only stuffed the very tip and remained there while the fleshy rim tightened and began to knead his length.   
There was no coping with this; keening moans forced their way out of his slavering mouth as the Beast assaulted every sensitive spot he had. The final humiliation came when he felt the compulsion fade and release him entirely while the pleasure remained, just as overpowering as before; now _ he  _was enjoying this, there was no longer any outside force directing his lust. Tears mingled with saliva even as he bucked back against his grotesque pleaser.  
Then it twisted his eartips and suddenly it was all too much; Khayri howled as his body exploded with pure sensation, accompanied by the Beast's excited cooing. And then his world exploded with pain. Of course._

  
Praktash woke up from the dream with a shriek as the first cluster of eggs hatched inside him. The nightmare went on even though he had his eyes wide open! He wailed and began to thrash as the larvae wriggled about; it hurt, itched, tickled and felt obscenely good all at once and he could do nothing but scream.  
Kaelun was by his side in an instant. ”Brother? Brother!”  
”Help me,” Praktash groaned before the next hatching cluster tore another frantic scream over his lips.  
Kaelun rushed over to the door. ”Ladyship! LADYSHIP!!!”  
The next moment, Záhovar came in. ”What is happening?”  
”They're hatchin',” Kaelun explained while trying to hold his brother still.  
”Make it stop!!” Praktash howled into the mattress. ”I'll be good, just make it stop, _please!_ ”  
”Kaelun, what did Gîrakûn do when this happened?” Záhovar asked.  
Kaelun frowned. ”She... He was always left with the thing that put the eggs inside. It tended to him... Helped him. But I never saw it happen. I was... busy.” He swallowed hard and looked away.  
 _Tended to him... In a similar fashion as the first time, perhaps?_ Praktash lay still for the moment and glanced at her with feverish eyes as she leaned close. ”When the... monster... 'tended' to you, did it... enter?” His eyes filled with shame as he nodded.  
Záhovar turned to Kaelun. ”Can you not use your fingers? To help him?”  
”I've tried before, but they're too short. An' I can't do it with claws, I'd just hurt him.”  
Záhovar resigned herself to her fate. ”Bring me the lube.”  
The larvae were still for the moment, giving Praktash a chance to catch his breath. He had heard Záhovar's words but did not understand them. _What's she gonna do with lube? She's got no cock, an' cocks won't help me now anyway._ Then she touched him and he understood. He shoved her away and pushed himself up on all fours.  
”C'mon, hurry up,” he told her. ”It'll only get worse, an' you might not be able to get in when the next one hits.”  
”Should I not go slow? I have no wish to harm you.”  
Praktash chuckled bitterly. ”You think your little fist could hurt me? I've taken the krîtar's batterin' ram up my arse! Nar, just shove it in, I can deal with it.”  
He took the lube jar and smeared himself with its contents. Then he guided her hand right and closed his eyes as she pressed her fingers together and slowly began to push them inside. Kaelun massaged his neck and shoulders. Praktash suddenly reached behind himself with a growl and caught Záhovar's elbow.  
”You're goin' too slow! I told ya; just shove it in!” With that, he forced her hand past his swollen prostate with a loud groan. ”Ohh, _fuuuck..!_ ”  
Záhovar could feel the next cluster of eggs prepare for hatching. They swelled against her wrist, quivering and twitching, and Praktash yowled into the mattress and pleaded for her to do something. Not knowing what, she gently probed the swelling inside him.  
”Shit!!” Praktash squeaked. ”Not like that, it hurts!” Then he gasped a little. ”Back an' forth, like you're punchin' me. An' do it hard!”  
Záhovar nodded. Placing one hand at his hip for leverage, she pulled out a little and then drove her fist into him far harder than she thought healthy. Praktash bellowed and she stopped, but he immediately shouted at her not to. ”Hurry, it's happenin' again! Oh... Oh, _shit!!_ ”  
Záhovar obeyed and Kaelun gave her a helping hand by tugging Praktash's cock. Praktash himself alternated between begging for it all to end and for them never to stop until his voice grew hoarse from all the shouting.  
”No matter what comes next in my career, this will undoubtedly be the most bizarre situation I will ever find myself in,” Záhovar muttered through gritted teeth.  
”Shut up,” Praktash laughed and groaned at the same time. Then he tensed up. ”Ahh..! I think... Go harder..!” Just as the last cluster hatched, everything tightened up and his mind almost snapped from the sensation. ”FUUH-UUH-UUUCK!!!” Then he collapsed with a pained whimper.

  
”In case anyone needs me, I shall be in the bathroom,” Záhovar muttered as she pulled her hand out. Praktash only giggled hysterically in reply.   
”No,” she added as Kaelun stood. ”I can do this myself. Stay with your brother.”  
”It's alright,” Praktash murmured into his pillow. ”I'd... rather be alone for a while, if y'don't mind. So tired...”  
”Very well,” Záhovar replied and gave Kaelun a permissive nod. He closed the door behind him at Praktash's request and followed Záhovar into the lavish bathroom. Záhovar held out her arms after a moment's hesitation; delicate hands untied the sash around her waist and removed her robe. Then Kaelun closed his eyes and turned away.  
”Does... does my Ladyship wish to bathe?” he asked timidly.  
”Yes, I would very much like that.”

Kaelun relaxed a little as he opened the taps on the wall and made sure that the water was the right temperature. In all the madness of late, at least this was familiar. _She likes it hot, almost too hot to touch,_ he remembered from her first stay in Blog Shakâmb. A pile of linen towels had been placed in an alcove near where the hot water rose through the wall; the location ensured that they were always warm and dry. After taking one and placing it on the towel rack where it was easy to reach, Kaelun knelt on the floor and kept his eyes fixed on the basin's edge as Záhovar entered the water. After submerging herself briefly, she wiped the water out of her eyes with a relaxed little sigh before returning to where Kaelun sat. He bowed his head in submission and moved to give her space. It did not matter that there was plenty of room; if she wanted that particular spot, he would give it. As she sat down beside him, he dipped a sponge in the water, rubbed some soap on it and quietly offered to wash her. Záhovar reluctantly permitted it and he began to wash her outstretched arm, careful not to touch her skin with his. Yes, this was familiar; serving, pleasing, worshipping but not like _that.  
_ Kaelun knew why she had suggested that he stay behind. He had failed her, broken the rules most horridly. He was not worthy of serving her, not for real. This moment here in the bathroom was a boon he did not deserve. Even now she was frightened of him; he could tell by her scent and the way she sat, hiding parts of her from him. It was so _wrong_ and he badly wanted to make amends, to prove that he was worthy of a place at her feet, but he was not sure that he truly was.  
It was familiar, and yet fundamentally different. The new Ladyship kept interacting with him; looking, nodding, gesturing; each contact made Kaelun's insides flutter. She _saw_ him, acknowledged him, even when she commanded him to switch sides or scrub harder she made sure that he knew that she was speaking to _him._ The other one never did; she would simply speak to the open air. The few times she used his name, it was spoken as if it was just a dead thing. This new one made him feel real. The mere thought was almost surreal, ridiculous even, and Kaelun had to focus hard on his task not to smile.  
  
”I believe my arm is clean now,” Záhovar said after a while.  
”Yes my Ladyship.” At the end of the last syllable, a little purr escaped him no matter how in control he believed himself to be. Kaelun clamped a hand over his mouth and blushed furiously.  
Záhovar smiled a little. ”You may purr and smile if you wish; I have no intention of governing your every expression.”  
”Thank you, my Ladyship,” Kaelun whispered.  
Záhovar primmed her lips. ”I do not like that title.”  
”I'm sorry my Ladysh-... My... Oh..!”  
”Kaelun,” she said and placed a hand on his arm. Kaelun twitched a little at being touched and met her eyes.  
”Yes, my-... M-my...”  
”Why do you call me that? I am not her.”  
”No, but... But it's _real!_ It's...” He let out an anxious little whimper.  
”Wait, do not answer that question. Let me ask you another instead; what does 'Ladyship' mean to you?”  
Kaelun looked up in surprise and relief. Then he frowned for a moment as he searched hard for the right words. ”'Ladyship' means... everythin'. No, wait,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. ”This is after. Before was... before. No, it isn't right...”  
”I think I understand what you mean,” Záhovar said. ”Before was when you were under compulsion, and now you are not. Correct?”  
Kaelun gave her a shy smile. ”Yes! Before, nothin' was real. I said words that were real but twisted, an' words that weren't real but sounded like they were.” He scowled. ”I called her 'Ladyship', but I didn't mean it. It wasn't real. It never will be!” Then his expression softened. ”Now is... different,” he murmured, eyes fixed on his fidgeting hands. ”Everythin's changed. Now I can say it an' _mean_ it. Worship an' Ladyship... They're both the same now.”  
”And what does 'Worship' mean to you?”  
”It's... _you._ I called her 'Ladyship' even though I didn't wanna, an' I couldn't call ya 'Ladyship' 'cause it was only meant for _her_. So I said 'Worship' instead, but meant the other. Real but twisted.”  
”There were many things you could not say, were there not?”  
”Yes,” Kaelun whispered. ”I wanted to say so many things when I first met ya, but I wasn't allowed. No talkin'... I know you tried. I'm sorry for not replyin'.”  
”I accept it, now that I know why.”  
”I couldn't even... I didn't wanna do _any_ of what I did!” Kaelun began to hyperventilate as he became more and more distressed. ”I didn't wanna force ya, but she _made_ me! An' the more you fought, the more I... The more _it_ wanted more! If you'd just... If...”  
He doubled over with a sharp sob. His shoulders shook as he fought to regain control; the sudden touch of Záhovar's hand made him gasp; for a brief moment he was certain that she would strike him.  
”Kaelun,” she murmured softly, ”had I not fought you the way I did... Would that have caused you less pain?”  
Kaelun remained silent for so long that Záhovar began to think that he would not answer. But then came a quiet, whispered: ”no.”  
”None the less, my apology is yours, if you will have it. It was never my intention to give you this pain.”  
”No!!” He shot up and grabbed her shoulders. ”It's not your fault, it never was, _never_! _She_ made me, made _you_ do bad things! Don't say that for stuff that's _her_ fault! Don't - don't...” Suddenly he realised whom he had shouted at and pulled away as though she was an open flame, slowly scooching backwards until his back was flush with the wall. Too upset to speak, he could only whimper wordlessly as anxiety rocked his being.

Záhovar watched him for a moment, unsure of what to do. She remembered how Praktash used to hug her or Graznikh whenever he became upset and how it always seemed to calm him down; _perhaps that will work here as well?  
_ Kaelun stared in bewilderment as she held her arms out towards him. ”Come.”  
”I'll only hurt you again,” Kaelun whispered.  
”I think not,” Záhovar whispered back, ”and I... _trust_ that you will not.”  
”What's 'trust'?”  
”It is the mindset you will need to do as I ask. The resolve and belief that you will indeed not harm me, and that I will not harm you. That I will not cross whatever boundaries you set for yourself, and that you will not cross mine.”  
”I have no boundaries...”  
”Then draw some.”  
Kaelun gave her a pleading look. ”I-I don't know how!”  
”My boundary is this; I do not want you to deliberately cause me physical harm unless I ask you to. I do not want you to assault or force me in any way. Can you do that?”  
Kaelun immediately nodded. ”Yes! I don't wanna hurt ya, not ever!”  
”Good,” Záhovar said. ”That is how you draw a boundary. You decide how you want others to treat you and make sure that they do. If you do not, you will be taken advantage of. Some people will not respect the boundaries you set even though you tell them to; in that case, they are forcing your hand and you have my permission to do whatever is necessary to defend yourself. You may hurt them, even kill them if you must. Do you understand?”  
”I think so,” Kaelun replied, his voice a little steadier. After a moment of silence during which his heavy brow folded in a deep, thoughtful frown, he said: ”I don't...” He paused to take a deep breath, then continued: ”I don't wanna be made to hurt others.”  
”Then I promise never to give you such a command.” Kaelun met Záhovar's gaze and they looked at each other in silence for a while.  
”What d'you want me to do?” Kaelun asked eventually.  
”Something that I thought might make you feel a little better,” Záhovar replied, ”though I do not know whether it will work or not. I believe it is called a 'hug'.”  
Kaelun's eyes were innocently curious. ”Show me, please!”

Even though they were sitting down, Záhovar almost lost her balance as Kaelun leaned into the embrace. Kaelun felt it and sucked her up into his lap instead, burying his face into her hair while purring with delight and contentment as he wrapped his arms around her.   
”I take it you have not done this before,” Záhovar said after a while.  
”I have,” Kaelun whispered against her neck, ”but not like this... Only with my brother. But not with her. _Never_ with her, and I don't mind. Wouldn't want to.”  
He drank in Záhovar's scent with deep breaths. ”I wasn't even allowed to smile. She only told me to do that when it was the last thing I wanted.” He retreated a little, looked down briefly and when he lifted his head again, the sorrow and pain had mostly left his eyes. He did not smile, but the tension in his shoulders was gone and Záhovar thought that he looked slightly less burdened. ”Maybe things'll be different now.”  
”If it lies within my power, I will make sure that they are.”   
Kaelun did not respond. He had bowed his head and closed his eyes, and his shoulders were shaking slightly.  
Záhovar began to grow concerned. ”Kaelun?”  
Something warm and hard pressed against her nether region and she suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that they were both naked and that she was straddling his lap. She yelped as Kaelun suddenly doubled over, pushing her down until she was lying on her back with him on top.  
”Kaelun... Boundaries. Remember what I told you!”  
Kaelun did not reply; he lay frozen above her with his hands on her hips, forehead pressed against her shoulder, breathing heavily. Záhovar could feel rather than hear the thrumming growl deep in his throat; he was clearly struggling with himself and she dared not test her luck by doing the same.  
The thought came to her unbidden, to use compulsion to defend herself and take control. It would be easy, mere child's play, and she still remembered the exhilarating sense of domination it gave. But she had given him a promise and did not wish to break what frail trust there was. She did not know why it was important, only that it was. The 'why' of it was a philosophical contemplation for another night.  
She never found out whether Kaelun would have managed to withdraw on his own; Praktash appeared on the threshold and dove for him the moment he spotted them. , Kaelun lost it as he was yanked away and began to fight back with wild growls.   
”You _never_ bloody learn!” Praktash groaned and roared in pain as his brother's fangs sank into his bicep.  
”And you never wait,” Záhovar murmured back, too low for him to hear. He had already dragged Kaelun back to the Lug-snaga bedroom; as he opened the door, Kaelun took the chance to punch his swollen belly. Praktash howled in pain but managed to hold himself together long enough to shove his frenzied brother through the door and slam it shut. Then he sank down against it with a pained groan.  
”Are you alright?” Záhovar asked once she reached him.  
”Nar,” Praktash replied through gritted teeth. ”But it'll pass.” He gave her an angry look. ”Y'think this is some bloody game?! D'you _want_ to get raped?”  
”He was in control of himself!”  
”Yeah, but for how long? He looked ready to rip your throat out!”  
”This is a matter of trust. If we never give him a chance-”  
”Yeah, 'cause some of us are clearly more trustworthy than others!”  
”What is that supposed to mean?”  
”If you're so eager for Uruk cock, have at him! Ride him raw. But don't come whinin' to me if you get bitten again!”  
”I will not use him like that!”  
”Oh come _on,_ it's all he knows anyway!”  
”Clearly you do not know your brother as well as you think!”  
”An' you do? You've fucked once an' now you know all each other's little secrets? Guess what; I've fucked him too, an' more than you have. So there!”  
”Praktash; what _is_ this about?”  
”It's about me not wantin' to do the dirty work of protectin' ya from my frenzyin' brother when you go around an' rile him behind my back! If I knew you were such a _whore_ I wouldn't've offered in the first place!”  
 _”How dare you?!”_ Záhovar hissed. ”You insolent, impudent, inept-”  
”If those're the worst insults you can come up with, you need to spend more time among Orcs,” he sneered. Záhovar spun around and stormed into the bed room.  
”Stay out of my sight!!” she shouted.  
Praktash leaned his head against the door with a sigh. ”I guess I will...”  
  
  


When Graznikh and Sulmurz returned from their trip, Kaelun had calmed down from the frenzy but was nearly hysterical over the fact that he had not only lost control again but also hurt his brother in the process. Graznikh regretted that he had not been there, and not only because he wanted to support his buddy during a difficult time. He wasn't sure that he liked the way his mind was working, but in a secret, lecherous little corner of it, he wished that he had been there to watch the ordeal.

After some convincing and the promise that Sulmurz would stay with him, Kaelun agreed to leave on Záhovar's command. Sensing that she wanted it, Graznikh left as well.  
He found Sulmurz and Kaelun one level below the entrance floor; the latter sat with his arms around his knees and was trembling visibly.  
Sulmurz tensed up. ”Ya gonna bitch about us bein' 'cute' now?”  
”I don't give a shit about either of ya,” Graznikh growled and squatted on the thick windowsill.  
”Good.” He turned back to the quietly crying Uruk.  
”Why won't she hurt me?” Kaelun whimpered. ”Why's she doin' this to me?”  
”Who knows what a Top One thinks?” Sulmurz tried. ”Bet she got her reasons. Best not to dwell on it.”  
”But there should be pain!” Kaelun cried. ”I deserve it, I messed up so bad! Better...” He swallowed hard and continued, much quieter; ”better some now an' some later than nothin' now an' _all_ later...”   
”Alright.”  
Kaelun froze. Graznikh had listened to his outburst with half an ear, and now he jumped down from the windowsill. ”You want pain? I'll give ya pain.”  
Kaelun stared at him with wide eyes. ”Our Ladyship didn't give the order,” he whispered, but Graznikh knocked on his temple and understanding dawned in the willowy Uruk's eyes. He lowered his gaze, frightened but resigned. Graznikh went up two levels to the dungeon, where he fetched a whip; a threepronged taskmaster's tool with steel barbs in the ends. Careful not to cut himself, he took hold of the barbs and cut them off, leaving only the thin leather strings. _Used right, they'll sting enough to leave a lasting memory._ Then he coiled the whip up in his hand and went back down.  
”What the fuck're ya-” Sulmurz began, but Graznikh interrupted him.  
”Hold him down.”  
”Ya can't just-”  
”I gave ya an order, Lug-snaga!!”  
Sulmurz glared back. While the Orcs sized each other up, Kaelun leaned forward and pressed his cheek against the stone floor.  
”Don't fuck this up,” Graznikh growled. ”Don't make me use this on you, too!”  
”I dunno what ye're playin' at,” Sulmurz snarled as he yanked and tugged at the straps that held his leather bracer to his arm. Then he rolled it up, knelt in front of Kaelun and held it to his face. ”Here; bite down on this.”  
Kaelun did as told and Sulmurz grabbed his arms and pressed them down. He jumped a little as Graznikh unfurled the whip with a crack. Sulmurz thought that was odd. _Shouldn't he be used to this?_ A nod from Graznikh caught his attention.  
The first lick struck the small of Kaelun's back; he jerked hard and a half-choked wail escaped him. There was a pause, not quite long enough for him to regain his composure, before the next one found his left shoulder. Only the bracer kept his cry from leaving his mouth unmuffled. Five more strikes followed, each hard enough to break the skin. Sulmurz had to work hard to keep him down, the little Uruk was far stronger than he looked and he thrashed and wriggled vigorously.  
As the snap of the seventh lash and the echo of his last scream died down, Sulmurz released him. Kaelun hyperventilated on the bloodied floor and did not move as Graznikh knelt beside him.  
”Is this what you wanted?” he asked with a lopsided smirk. The willowy Uruk looked up at him but did not answer. Graznikh stood again. ”Get up.”  
Kaelun tried, but the moment his back muscles flexed he fell back down with a pained cry.  
”Záhovar's gonna kill ya,” Sulmurz remarked.  
Graznikh chuckled. ”You know she won't. She _can't_. ”  
”Wanna bet on it?”  
  
Once they were alone, Záhovar returned to Praktash and stopped in front of him. He had taken up residence in her bed and was studying the mosaic ceiling with a weary expression.   
”Are we done?” she asked.  
”Done fightin' or done talkin'?”  
”Whichever you prefer.”  
He glanced at her. ”Kinda liked the fightin'. But you need to learn how to curse.”  
”Was this necessary?”  
He shrugged. ”Made me feel better.”  
”You are being childish.”  
”Common thing when carryin'.” He glanced towards the desk. ”Or so I've heard.”  
Záhovar sat down on the bed and crossed her legs. ”How do you feel?”  
”My belly fuckin' hurts, but I bet you knew that already.”  
”I did not mean your belly.”  
He winced. ”I don't know what to say.” His voice grew thicker as he spoke. ”I don't know what to _do!_ I keep hopin' it's all just another nightmare, but then I open my eyes, an'...” Suddenly he rolled over from where he had been facing the wall and buried his face in her lap. ”Záza..!”  
Záhovar stroked his red hair as he cried. It had become matted and tangled from lack of care. Praktash combed his hair almost as meticulously as he filed his claws, and the fact that he had neglected it was proof enough of the severity of his condition.  
”I don't wanna live like this,” he whispered through the tears. ”I don't wanna go on! Why should I, when everyone I can stand bein' around turn their backs on me?!”  
”Praktash,” Záhovar whispered back. The guilt and shame of her failure almost prevented her from speaking further. ”I did everything within my power to stop this from happening, but it was not enough. Lay the blame on me, but leave Graznikh and Sulmurz out of it.”  
”I don't... blame anyone... but that horse-cocked bastard who sold me out!!” Praktash hickuped. ”I'mma kill him if I ever see him again!”  
”If that is truly what you wish, measures could be taken to arrange such a thing.”  
”Not like this... I'm not fit to kill anyone.”  
”And after..?”  
”...I'll think 'bout it then.” He sighed and closed his eyes. Then he frowned. ”D'you... feel that?”  
Záhovar looked around. ”Yes... It is as though someone...”  
”...Is usin' sorcery! In here?”  
”No, but nearby. Come!”

They searched each floor of the tower until they found the source. Kaleun sprawled on the upper garrison's floor, his back a bloody mess of lashmarks; he had, perhaps unwittingly, reached for the Unseen and to trained eyes he shone like a corona.  
 _Does Gîrakûn know how strong he is?_ Záhovar wondered. _No, she cannot have; she would never have let him go so easily if she knew._ Uruks were not supposed to have the Gift; it was a privilege given to High Officers that had been thoroughly weeded out among lesser Orcs and an important part of the selection process for Black Uruks was to make sure that their lineage was free of it. Now she had two Uruks under her roof that should not exist; one who had the Gift of Sight and could become a sorcerer if he studied and one who was an unstable natural, a wildsage. _If_ he survived.  
Praktash knelt beside his motionless brother. ”Buddy... you've got some serious fuckin' issues.”  
”That's what I said!” Sulmurz exclaimed, only to recall with whom he was agreeing and shut his mouth with a scowl. Praktash did not care to pick him up on it; he got up and left hurriedly, muttering something about bandages and healing salve.  
Graznikh was still holding the whip. Záhovar's expression as she slowly turned to face him made him want to throw it away and blame Sulmurz for a moment, but no. There was no excusing himself out of this, and he did not truly want to either. This was _his_ fight.  
”Care to explain?” The question was little more than a hiss.  
Graznikh's breath came out in white puffs as he answered. ”You didn't expect me to let him go unpunished after jumping ya twice, did ya?”  
The next hiss went straight to his knees and almost buckled them; Graznikh quickly decided that he had never seen his master this angry before. ”And what punishment should I devise for _you,_ who have disobeyed me more often than so?”  
”'Disobeyed'? That bloody implies that there's an order to go against! You didn't give any! You never said he was to stay in here all the time or that we should coddle him!”  
”I did not do so because I assumed that you had a mind of your own and was capable of seeing individual differences! _Thank you_ for teaching me an important lesson!”  
”He fucking wanted it! Oi, snaga! Tell 'er! You said you deserved it! Some now and some for later, right?”  
With much effort and strained whimpers, Kaelun managed to curl into a ball on the floor.  
Záhovar glared at the cowering Uruk. ”Graznikh?”  
Graznikh stepped closer. ” Yes, mila-”  
There was a loud 'crack' as the High Officer's gauntleted fist connected with his cheekbone. He fell backwards and hit the floor with a 'thud'.  
”Ouch,” Sulmurz commented with no conviction whatsoever.  
  
  
When Graznikh came to, he found himself trapped. The cell was so dark that he could not see more than two, three feet ahead of him; the corners of it were filled with a black miasma that his eyes could not pierce. He immediately recognised Záhovar's particular brand of sorcery and the darkness did not frighten him, at least not at first. His collar felt heavier than usual and at first he could not figure out why, but then he discovered that a heavy chain had been attached to it, the other end of which was fastened to the wall with large, sharp rivets. His jaw still hurt where she had struck him. _She sure can pack a punch when she wants to,_ he thought with a fond chuckle.  
”Záhovar?” he called into the nothingness. ”So I messed up, no need to get all dramatic about it! Lemme out and we'll sort things out the usual way!”  
The darkness did not answer. _Maybe she's busy with some errand?_ Time stretched; soon he felt the unmistakable tremor of a toll reverberating up from deep below ground. _How big are those bells, really? Gotta see if I can get a tour of the place once I'm outta here._ The silence suddenly broke as a door opened somewhere beyond the veil of darkness.  
Graznikh jumped at the sound. ”Záhovar? Hey!”  
No answer came. He threw himself towards the sound but was soon halted by the collar; he could barely make out the outline of the iron door, the open scuttle near the floor and the flickering light of a torch on the other side as a bowl was pushed through it. Then it closed.  
”Oi!! Send word to Záhovar! Tell her... Oh, for fuck's sake,” he grumbled as nothing but silence answered him. _So maybe she's more pissed than I thought. Guess I'll just hafta wait her out._ He eyed the bowl. It was too far away for him to reach it with his hands, but after some acrobatics he managed to grab a hold of it with his toes and could pull it closer. He let out a groan as he spotted the contents; it was the same slop that the lowlives in the garrisons ate. Tentatively he picked up a grey, jelly-like glob and winced with disgust. ”Come on master, don't do this to me..!”  
  
”How long're you gonna leave him in there?” Praktash asked a week later.  
”Until he has had ample time to consider the consequences of his actions,” Záhovar replied. She looked out across the dark plain below and seemed not to mind the cold wind that tore at her robe. Praktash pulled his own tighter around his shoulders.  
”My brother's healin' just fine. He told me so himself. You don't hafta do this.”  
”Go back inside,” Záhovar told him without taking her eyes off the view.  
”Not unless you do too. You've barely slept at all! An' don't say you're not tired; I can tell.”  
”Lying in bed will not help me rest easier.”  
”Lemme guess; he keeps messin' with the bond so you won't forget about him.”  
Záhovar did not reply and Praktash snorted. ”Can'tcha think of a better way to solve this?”  
”Would you rather I tortured some sense into him?”  
” _That's_ the only alternative you can think of?”  
”Do you have a better idea?”  
”Yeah! Lemme go down an' talk to him.”  
Only now did she turn to look at him. ”Since when have words swayed the minds of either of you?”  
”Ouch..! Fine, stay out here. But don't blame me if you nap an' fall off the balcony!”  
”...Very well; talk to him. Remind him of his status and tell him that he will remain in there until he grovels before me like the snaga he is!”  
”That won't solve anythin'.”  
”Neither will his inexcusable abuse of my authority!”  
”Hey, don't yell at _me_ for this! I'll do what I can, don't worry.” He leaned in through the doorway. ”Brother!”  
Kaelun looked up from where he sat on the floor. ”Yes?”  
”Go make the bed.” Then he turned back. ”An' you? Try usin' it.”  
Záhovar sighed. She watched as both Uruks hurried away on their respective tasks, and her eyes lingered on Kaelun's back where the whip marks were still clearly visible. After some hesitation she followed him into the bedroom, stopping by the doorpost and watching as he went about his appointed chores. The moment he spotted her, he bowed his head and kept his eyes fixed on the ground.  
  
After the ordeal, Kaelun had reverted to an even more submissive state, always staying at arm's distance, never touching her and only meeting her gaze when explicitly told to do so.  
At first, Záhovar had been of a mind to give Graznikh a taste of his own medicine when she discovered what he had done, but something had stayed her hand. With the return of the bond and the dispelling of the compulsion, the old indecisiveness and doubt had returned. Now that she had experienced the opposite state of mind more clearly and had time to analyse the difference, she realised that there was more to it than she had first thought. A part of her did not wish to watch him suffer and nurtured a foolish hope that he would simply see her side of things. It was absurd; Orcs did not bend so easily. Endearing though they might be, their nature was ultimately selfish and the only way to make them do something was by lash or treat.  
 _The only difference lies in how harshly we apply the former,_ she thought bitterly as Kaelun bowed before her and meekly told her that 'the Ladyship's' bed was ready.  
”Thank you. You may eat what you want from what is left of my dinner.”  
Kaelun glanced towards the tray that Záhovar had not touched, but made no comment on it. ”Does my Ladyship want help with her clothes?”  
”No, I will undress myself. Leave me.”  
Kaelun bowed again and left. Záhovar carelessly tossed the heavy robe into an armchair and pulled her boots off before crawling in beneath the duvet without removing her tunic or trousers. There she curled up and stared at the wall. _So many things have gone so very wrong..._  
Suddenly her throat tightened up as though someone was choking her and her eyelids began to burn. She shot up thinking that she had been poisoned, but then the feeling abated a little. _What just happened..?_  
Something tickled the palm of her hand. As she lifted it, she saw that it was a strand of black hair, coarse, almost like a horse's. Záhovar fell back down onto the pillow; it smelled like him. The strange feeling returned with full force and she buried her head into the pillow, quietly crying herself to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live once more! And the story goes on, no worries. I haven't abandoned this word-baby, it's just growing slowly at the moment.


	8. Little Glimmers

When Sulmurz returned from his latest errand, he found Kaelun watching their sleeping mistress from the doorway.  
”She cried,” he whispered as he noticed the Orc's approach. ”Before she fell asleep.”  
”Aye, she does that sometimes,” Sulmurz replied. ”Weird, huh?”  
”No.”  
Sulmurz gave him a sullen glance. ”Sure not... Everyone seems to be snivelin' these days...”  
”It's the 'why' that's weird.”  
”Err... what?”  
Kaelun shook his head and left the doorway. Sulmurz threw one last look at the sleeping form before following him into the lounge. While he took the opportunity to snack on the High Officer's leftovers, Kaelun took a rag and began to wipe the table.  
”Whaddya mean, the 'why' of it?” he asked. ”Isn't that obvious?”  
Kaelun glanced at him. ”Is it?”  
”Aye. Tears come when ya feel shame about something... right? Or when ye're sick.”  
”Sometimes. An' sometimes 'cause of pain or fear.”  
Sulmurz snorted. ”Only sissy tarks snivel for those reasons.”  
Kaelun was quiet for a long while before replying. ”If you say so.”  
  


The next day, Graznikh followed Praktash down the stairs from the dungeon and into the great hall where Záhovar awaited his defense.  
”You silver-tongued bastard,” he muttered as he spotted his mistress on the throne.   
”Me?” Praktash whispered back with a smirk. ”I just greased the way a little. The rest you'll hafta do yourself.” He left him and walked up to the throne. Kaelun was already kneeling on the left side of it with Sulmurz standing behind him; Praktash took up position to the right.  
Graznikh lifted his gaze and looked upon the one who took up the high seat. She looked like a tark queen, or as close to one as he could imagine, in full ceremonial armour and a tiara of the same black metal with three sharp spikes that helped keep her long hair out of her face. Her enchanted double glaive rested across her lap, its sharp edges glittering in the braziers' light.  
Záhovar gave him an icy look. ”Speak.”  
Graznikh took a deep breath. ”I know I fucked up, I know I-”  
”Do you now?”  
”A week in the lockbox spoke clear enough.”  
”Indeed?”  
”Oh, come on âmbal! You don't need to put yerself on display to impress me; I get it. You wanna whip me? Then do it.”  
”If such measures were enough to subdue you, you would not have disobeyed in the first place.”  
Graznikh opened his mouth to quip back, but froze. Záhovar casually placed a hand on her glaive and suddenly a void of pure light opened behind the throne; gone were the others, gone was the throne and the entire back end of the hall. Her skin bled light and her neck bled black, black as the hair on her head and the thin streaks of the Void that made up the pupils in her icy blue eyes. She seemed otherworldly; even her armour was suddenly transparent and he could see the black pattern on her skin through it. When she spoke, she did so with two voices; one was the Elf he had once known, the other a hissing stranger.  
 _”Do you wish for our failure?”_  
”You know I don't! I've already said so! Skai, what more d'you want?”  
 _”We do not want you to say it. We want you to_ see _it.”_  
”'We?' Who the... Âmbal..? Are you even in there?”  
Her eyes narowed; the collar grew cold and the bond suddenly felt like it was strangling him. Graznikh gasped, realising that she could kill him if this kept up. Then it opened wide, flooding him with a torrent of emotions at a spectrum Orcs were normally incapable of reaching.  
 _”See my side of things.”_  
Conflicting feelings overrode his conscious mind. Anger that he had acted out of order; grief that he had hurt someone she cared about. Cold resignation in the face of failure; fear of a fate beyond death. A pull from beyond the horizon; a web holding everything back. He was mercilessly tossed back and forth between different emotions until his eyes burned like fire; something tried to force its way out of them and he wanted to claw them out, but when he raised his hands to do so he found that he had no claws. ”STOP IT, PLEASE!!!”  
The torrent vanished in an instant. Graznikh fell to his knees with a terrified choke as the contrasts faded and everything returned to normal.

Praktash eyed the scene with a concerned frown. Graznikh was simply standing there like a statue, staring at their mistress with wide eyes as she reached for the Unseen. But then he sobbed and fell to his knees, suddenly whimpering like he had been in excrutiating pain. He opened his mouth to say something, but the only sound he could make was an uncontrolled gasp. Praktash frowned even deeper. _He looks like he's about to cry..!_  
”Leave us,” Záhovar commanded. Kaelun and Sulmurz obeyed immediately.   
Praktash hesitated. ”You sure he doesn't need..? Alright.” Recognising the steely look in her eyes, he trotted towards the stairs but could not resist giving his buddy a pat on the shoulder as he passed. Graznikh closed his eyes at the touch and nodded. Once the great hall was empty and the footsteps of the others had died out, he looked up towards the throne. ”You feel like that... all the time?”  
Záhovar gave him a curt nod. _How the fuck does she keep it all in?_  
”Our survival depends on my authority. You fail us again and again because you cannot see this. Would you rather see me die and face all the ages of this world alone?”  
”'Course I don't. I'll... I'll try to remember.”  
”Kaelun has an unusual gift, but he is frail. That makes him dangerous. I would not lose him, or you, by pushing him too far.”  
”Praktash told me what happened in the bath. Same with that first time he bit ya. You're not exactly innocent when it comes to pushing.”  
”I have pushed _no one._ ”  
”That bitemark says otherwise.”  
”And have you not given me such, and worse, before?”  
” _I_ know where and how to bite! _I_ am in control! He isn't!”  
Záhovar arched an eyebrow. "Clearly."  
”I don't trust him,” Graznikh continued, ignoring her sarcasm. ”Not until he's collared, at any rate. He could betray us just as easily as-...”  
He bit his tongue, but Záhovar had already caught on. ”As easily as _who?_ ”  
”...As easily as Margzat.” He shook his head. ”I'll tell ya all of it if you insist, but most of it's meant for Praktash's ears. I don't think it puts any of us in danger, not right now at any rate.”  
”Which parts would you deem important?”  
Graznikh nodded towards the throne. ”Can I..?”  
  
Záhovar did not permit him to approach. Instead she stood and descended the three steps down the dais. Once on the floor, she turned her head and exposed a torn and scarred ear. Graznikh leaned in close and whispered what he knew; as he did so, he noticed that she had added a small amount of the hair salve that he had once given her, small enough for sensitive Orc noses to catch, but only up close. For some reason, the scent of it convinced him that she had already forgiven his misstep and that no further punishment would follow.  
Her eyes grew colder as he finished. ”I see.”  
”Don't kill him,” he pleaded, or tried to.  
She nodded. ”It was good of you to tell me this. Fear not; as you said, this is Praktash's kill to make.” _But I should very much like to hear these words, and more, from his own lips. Measures will be taken and I believe I know whom to turn to._ She studied his face. ”But you are not content.”  
”Nar. I wanna kill someone.”  
”There are snaga aplenty if you want an outlet for your bloodlust.”  
”Not like that. Killing those is like swatting flies; easy and boring. I want a command, a kill with a challenge that's worth the chase.”  
”A challenge...” Záhovar looked down with a thoughtful frown, then she smiled; the ice in it made Graznikh feel elated. ”There is a Low Officer affiliated with the Quartermaster's office who is in charge of the well maintenance near mess hall number fiftythree; the man himself is of little import but there is a person in his service who might know something about the well poisoning incident. Kill the Officer, make it an obvious murder without leaving any trace back to yourself or me and I will make sure that man is elevated to the post. Then keep a close but discreet watch on his doings. He may have been cut loose already, but if not, he will lead us to the infiltrators.”  
Graznikh leered. ”Got it.”  
Záhovar gave him an appreciative nod. ”There is another thing as well.”  
”What?”  
”You will leave all future punishments to me. I may allow you to execute them, but the decision to act is mine to make.”  
”Got it.”  
She arched an eyebrow when he made no move to leave. ”You have been given an order, lug-snaga.”  
”Aye... speaking o' which: who's gonna warm your bed today? 'Cause I've got a _lot_ of steam to vent after this little ordeal; might as well do it in service to my master, eh?”  
”And you had no time to 'vent' while being locked up?”  
”Sure I did... plenty. As you well know. I also had plenty o' time to think about my actions... and the actions of others... and certain moves I wanna make... And how that armour looks real uncomfortable on ya...”  
”You need not remove all of it,” Záhovar told him as she backed up the dais.  
”Nar? So the Top One wants to be served fully clothed, eh?” He pushed her down on the throne and knelt before her. ”That's nasty...”  
”As are you, my Lug-snaga,” she quipped as she planted her feet on each of his shoulders. ”I daresay you forgot to bathe before presenting yourself here.”  
Graznikh's only reply was to push his mouth down between her legs with a purr that made her head roll back against the throne's backrest.  
  
  
”So,” Graznikh told Kaelun as they reclined in the lounge after a decent meal. Three nights had passed since his release from the dungeon and he had done his best to repair things with the willowy Uruk ever since. Kaelun had seemed to be of a similar mindset despite his fear. ”Now that you're free, how're ya holding up? Got anything you wanna do first?”  
Kaelun laughed a little with a bashful expression. ”I wanna fuck.”  
Praktash snorted and began to snicker.  
”I woulda thought you'd had enough of that by now,” Graznikh said with a lopsided grin. ”Woulda guessed you did quite a lot of it back in the other place.”  
Kaelun shook his head. ”It's not the same. I wasn't really fuckin', I was just... givin' fucks to others. Not even givin', really; I had no choice. I was never really there, it was just my body doin' stuff I had no control over.”  
”Fuckin' under compulsion isn't the same as normal,” Praktash explained. ”Doesn't matter if you're horny or not, the compulsion takes over an' makes it happen. I guess it's like berserkin', only with more fuckin'.”  
”Izzat why you thought I went berserk while fucking back in the beginning?” Graznikh asked Praktash.  
”Sorta,” Praktash replied with a naughty little smile. ”Yeah.”  
”Wild fuck, is he?” Kaelun asked with a teasing smile and nudged Praktash's shoulder with his own. Praktash gave Graznikh a bashful glance, then he looked down and his face cracked up in a lovesick grin as he nodded. ”He's amazin'!”  
Kaelun gave Graznikh a seductive little leer that the pale Orc just couldn't handle. ”Don't look at me like that.”  
Kaelun immediately grew serious. ”I'm sorry.”   
Praktash looked up at them both. ”What'd I miss?”  
”Nar, don't worry,” Graznikh said with a grin. ”It's just that my cock can't tell the two of ya apart. It reacts the same to you as it does to him, and... Well, it feels a little weird.”  
”I'm used to bein' weird,” Kaelun replied with a coy smile that made Praktash laugh.  
”Yeah, well you don't even like guys! So stop flirtin' with my buddy, ya bloody tease.”  
Graznikh chuckled. ”I'm glad you're smiling again, buddy.”  
”So am I,” Kaelun said. ”He has a very pretty smile, don'tcha think?” Praktash shot his twin another dazzling smile and Kaelun returned it with equal enthusiasm. They pretended to drown in each others' eyes for a moment, rubbing noses and touching each other with light fingertips. The sight of the near-identical Uruks feeling each other up went straight to Graznikh's crotch and he had to bite back a horny purr. Praktash sniffed the air a little and gave Graznikh a seductive leer as he placed a hand on Kaelun's thigh.  
”See somethin' you like, buddy?”  
”Oh, for fuck's sake,” Graznikh grumbled as he adjusted his loincloth a little. ”Who's being a bloody tease now?!” Both Uruks laughed at that.   
”I could make an effort,” Kaelun breathed and ran his fingers down Praktash's chest while holding Graznikh's gaze with eyes that seemed to suck him in. ”If you're as good a fuck as my brother says... I can be a _good_ bottom..!”  
  
Praktash suddenly doubled over with a cry. Graznikh shot up as he began to thrash and moan. ”What's up with him?”  
”I forgot,” Kaelun said with a concerned expression. ”I'm so sorry, brother!”  
”What the fuck is wrong with him?” Graznikh growled.  
”It's... Nothin's wrong,” Praktash gasped. He steeled himself and regained some control. ”It's just... those things inside, they're...”  
”They keep pressin' on that special place inside,” Kaelun explained. ”You know; fingers up your arse an' then bend them forward a little.” Graznikh felt his face flush with heat as he suddenly recalled the last time Praktash had tortured him by tying him down and fingering that spot for what had felt like an eternity before finally allowing him to spunk. ”They're _inside_ that place.”  
”Does it hurt?” Graznikh asked with a disturbed scowl.  
”Nar,” Praktash gasped and swallowed, ”not for the most part. But takin' a piss burns like you wouldn't believe an' I can't shit without spunkin'.”  
”It's the way it's supposed to be, I guess,” Kaelun said. ”They need to be shuffled a bit; the squeezin' that happens while spunkin' helps with that, an' they feed on the spunk. If he doesn't feed 'em regularly, they might die an' then he'll get really sick.”  
”That happened the first time,” Praktash said quietly while picking at a crease in the sheets. ”The witch thought that if I spunked they might come out too early, so she kept me from doin' it. It still happened every time I went to the bagronk, but it wasn't enough.”  
”She took 'em out by force. She thought they were the kind that killed the host, but she had others to play with like that. Didn't wanna lose my brother, not even for that benefit. She always liked him better.” Praktash whimpered at those words and Kaelun squeezed his shoulder. ”I'm sorry, brother, but it's true.”  
Graznikh punched the mattress. ”I wish I'd been there,” he growled. ”I wish I coulda _done_ something _..._ ”  
”I wouldn'ta wanted you there, buddy,” Praktash replied quietly. ”Despite everythin', it's better this way. I'll live, I'll make it through. An' you've given me my brother. Trust me; it _is_ better this way.”  
”Záhovar did most of the job,” Graznikh said with a meek grin. ”I was just scared outta my wits. I guess I don't handle this dushatâr mumbo-jumbo any better than Sulmurz does.”  
”Speakin' of _her_...” Kaelun purred. ”Where's she now?”  
Graznikh looked up. ”Officer business, I'd wager. Why d'you ask?”  
”Oh, just wonderin'... When she comes back, then maybe... If she wants to, if you're okay with it, then... Maybe I could..?” He placed a hand on his package and squeezed it a little through the loincloth while biting his lower lip.  
Graznikh frowned. ”You wanna fuck her?”  
”Mmm-hm,” Kaelun said and gave the door a longing look. Then he shrugged with a sad smile. ”Probably won't happen though; she doesn't like me. Not after what I did to her the last time.” He frowned as Graznikh began to laugh. ”What? Am I that silly?”  
”Nar, it's not that.” Graznikh chuckled. ”She _does_ like ya, _and_ whatever you did to her back in Blog Shakâmb. She didn't want to like it, but she did.”  
Kaelun frowned in confusion. ”How do you know?”  
Graznikh grinned. ”I was there, in a way. We got this bond o' sorts; like a little string into each others' heads. If we hold onto it at the same time or if the feelings're strong enough, I can sort of tell what she feels'n the other way around. The witch has been after us ever since she found out; I'd wager she wants to study it, see if there's something she can use. When Záhovar came to her, she used you as a way to get to me through her. Managed to put _me_ under compulsion, even though it shouldn'ta worked. Nearly tore us apart.”  
Kaelun looked at him with big eyes and quivering lips. ”I didn't know...” he whispered. ”I didn't know, I'm so sorry!”  
”Hey, don't worry budd-... Ah...” He gave Praktash an apologetic glance. ”Sorry 'bout that, buddy.”  
”You can buddy him if you like,” Praktash said. ”I don't mind.”  
”Right.” Graznikh turned to Kaelun. ”Don't worry 'bout it, we're fine now. I know ya didn't wanna do it.”  
”But I did,” Kaelun whispered. ”Or... Well, I didn't wanna hurt or scare her like that. Or do that to you. But I did want her, it wasn't just compulsion. I wanted her so badly, I kept comin' back after that first time. My La- uh...” He scowled.  
”Witch,” Praktash growled.  
”Witch,” Kaelun agreed. ”She never told me not to go, so I could. When I said I wanted to worship her it was true. Still is, only now I'm in control. Well... More than I was. I wanna worship her for real now, with all of me. Make it good for me too.” A playful little smile adorned his lips as he turned to Praktash. ”Say, brother... You like her too, don'tcha?”  
”Hm?” Praktash looked up. ”Yeah, but... Not like that.”  
”But you could make a special effort? For me an' her?” Kaelun's smile widened. Praktash thought it over.  
”Hold on a moment,” Graznikh said. ”You two... on her?”  
”Mmm-hm,” Kaelun purred. ”Me here, him there, and her...” He flicked his black hair back and gave Graznikh a sultry glance as he motioned towards the empty air in between. As Graznikh began to growl he grew frightened. Praktash gave his buddy a confused look.  
”Aye, I _might_ be inclined to let ya do that,” Graznikh growled. ”On one condition.”  
Kaelun gave him a worried look. ”What must I do?”  
”Let me watch the whole thing,” Graznikh replied with a leer. Kaelun's worry turned to surprise and he let out a relieved little laugh.   
Praktash chuckled. ”You're such a lecher, buddy!”  
”Well, I gotta have some vices, don'tcha think?” Graznikh chuckled. ”And I _like_ watching her get stuffed proper!”  
”Well, if you want me in the mix I'm afraid it'll have to wait 'til after... y'know. It'd be too much for me right now, what with this thing inside.” He scowled. ”It's bad enough that I _have_ to wank whether I feel like it or not.”  
”I could give ya a hand, if you want.”  
Praktash smiled into the pillow. ”I might like that. But... Not up my arse. It's a little tight in there right now, don't wanna risk scratches. Might turn nasty.”  
”I could trim,” Graznikh suggested.  
”Nar, don't do that!” Praktash exclaimed. ”I like your claws!”  
Graznikh wiggled his claws at him with a playful growl.  
”Oh fuck _you!_ ” Praktash exclaimed. ”Fuck fuck _fuuuuhh_...” Eyes glazing over, he fell on his back, yanked his loincloth off and started wanking furiously. Kaelun watched him for a moment before licking his lips at Graznikh. ”Watch this!”   
  
Graznikh could not help but purr as Kaelun pulled Praktash's hands away from his cock and replaced them with his mouth.  
”Oh, fuck _you,_ you sleazy little..!” Praktash groaned before the attentions brought him beyond speaking. Kaelun's only reply was a delighted purr; Graznikh yanked his loincloth off and used the sight to relieve some tension of his own.  
”You're a real performer,” he chuckled after they were done. Kaelun smiled and nodded, but suddenly he let out a pained squeak as Praktash pinched his neck.  
”Don't ever do that shit to me again without my say so,” Praktash growled. ”Got it?!” Kaelun nodded rapidly and he let go. ”Good.” Then he fell back down with a sigh.  
Kaelun sat quiet, staring at his hands with wide eyes for a while before whispering; ”I didn't think... I'm sorry.”  
Praktash glanced at him. ”Nevermind... I just don't want'cha to touch me there. You or anyone. It still hurts.” When his brother continued to look down with big, sad eyes he tried to muster a grin. ”C'mon big brother, I didn't say you were bad at it!”  
”No, you're right,” Kaelun said somberly. ”I shouldn't have forced you.”  
Graznikh felt left out and crawled over to lie down beside his buddy. ”Some folks _like_ a bit of force.”  
”It's not forcin' if they want it,” Praktash pointed out.  
”Says the one who forces 'em to like it.”  
”Not right now I'm not! Skai, I don't wanna fuck anythin' as long as I'm like this...”  
”It'll pass,” Kaelun murmured as he snuggled up close and hugged Praktash's arm.   
Praktash winced a little and changed the subject. ”So what now, you want me to return the favour?”  
Kaelun shook his head. ”I'll do it myself later.”  
”Just don't wait too long. I don't want'cha to go all crazy again.”  
”I won't! I'll deal with it... Later.”  
”An' who will you think about when you 'deal with it'..?”  
”You.”  
Praktash watched with a mischievous grin as Kaelun closed his eyes and leaned his head against his shoulder. Then he wetted a pinky with his tongue and stuck it in his brother's ear. Kaelun squeaked and began to flail.  
”You're such a slut!” Praktash laughed.  
”I am,” Kaelun giggled and rubbed his ear. ”Watch it; maybe I'll ask you for help an' keep you up long past your bedtime!”  
Praktash snarled jokingly at him.  
”Long distance runner, are ya?” Graznikh chuckled as the Uruks began to playfight.  
”I can go _all_ night an' start over fresh in the mornin',” Kaelun purred and stretched leisurely across his brother's lap. ”He knows.”  
Praktash let out an exhausted chuckle. ”I wonder if Záhovar won't regret lettin' a horny bastard like you off compulsion. You're almost worse than me! When will she have time over for work?”  
The smile disappeared from Kaelun's face. ”I won't force her!”  
”I _know_ you won't. But whenever she gets over this silly fear of hers, I think you'll find that she's got quite the appetite!”  
”I could think of a few ways to _sate_ her,” Kaelun murmured with a sly smile.  
”If this goes on I might just bloody learn to like group sports,” Graznikh muttered with a little leer.  
”Nar, you won't,” Praktash grinned. ”I know ya; you're a greedy little bastard!”  
”In more ways than one,” Graznikh murmured and made Praktash laugh.   
Kaelun gave them a confused smile. ”I don't understand.”  
”He likes bein' on the receivin' end almost as much as Sully does!”  
The smile vanished from Kaelun's lips. ”Sulmurz doesn't...”  
Praktash threw Graznikh a look. ”Should you or I tell him?”  
”Tell me what?”  
”Last time he watched me an' Graz go at it, he spunked without even touchin' himself. An' whenever he's drunk enough, he doesn't mind havin' fingers up there, not one bit. It's like this wall inside that keeps tellin' him cocks're bad, but it wasn't there from the start an' he didn't put it there himself.”  
”Put him through it often enough and that wall will come crashing down,” Graznikh added.  
Kaelun shook his head. ”It doesn't work like that.”  
”What doesn't?”  
”The fear. You can't _make_ someone not fear, not if you want it to be real. If someone faces their fear only 'cause they fear somethin' else more, the first fear'll come back the moment the second one disappears. It's like tryin' to put out a fire with more fire.”  
”Brother... you make no sense right now.”  
”It's alright,” Kaelun replied with a little smile. ”You'll understand later.”  
  
  
A few days later, Praktash was overseeing a group of stitch-lipped Lug-snaga as they brought in the latest shipment of supplies, furniture and other necessities that Záhovar had commissioned. She had not commanded him to do so, but his and Graznikh's last outing had cheered him up somewhat so he was of a mind to do something more than just sit and sulk. Now he pulled his cloak tighter to shield against the cold wind and eyed the blindfolded slaves as they carried a table across the bridge.  
”Hold, Lug-snaga.”  
The slaves paused. Praktash started a little and looked around for whoever had given the command. A tark strode out from the darkness of the Tower's depths, a man Praktash had never seen but whom Záhovar had described well enough for him to recognise; lord Agannâlo, the Black Hand, dúrauk and general of the Dark Lord's armed forces.  
Praktash bowed as the High Officer approached and tried to recall what else she had said about the man. As the Black Hand beckoned for him come closer, Praktash noted that he was slightly taller than him. It felt strange to have to look up at someone for a change.  
”I am told you are a member of lord Záhovar's retinue,” the Black Hand said. ”Is this so?”  
Praktash shrugged. ”No use in hidin' it.”  
”And what is your purpose?”  
 _What does he want, really?_ ”I'm her quartermaster.”  
The Black Hand arched an eyebrow. ”A Black Uruk with organisatory skills?”  
”Why not?” As much as he tried, he could not keep all of the defiant tone out of his voice. ”Anythin' snaga or tarks can do, we can do better.” _Yeah, you look shocked. This is no mere grunt you're messin' with!  
_ The Black Hand smirked and held up a small clay jar. ”Tell me then, quartermaster, what you think of this.” He handed it to Praktash, who gave him a wary look as he opened it. Inside was a fine, grey powder. He recognised it instantly but sniffed it from a distance just to be sure.  
”It's a poison. Not common, but not all that rare either. Kills slowly but painfully, clogs up the liver an' turns it grey,” he said without thinking.  
The tark Officer nodded. ”Not just a quartermaster, it would seem.” Praktash cursed himself for falling for such an easy trick. ”Your reputation has spread, especially after what happened in Thaurband. Yes, news have reached me of the attempt on her life. I do not know how you managed to save your master from Nightfoam poisoning and I have no intention of asking either. But know that I am not the only one to know this.”  
Praktash's eyes narrowed. ”An' who told you? The Lion?”  
The Black hand frowned slightly. ”I do not know of any 'lion'. The innkeeper who was sent to fetch you is a blabbermouth who saw the poisoning happen with his own eyes, or so he claimed. He described the symptoms very well.”  
”'Saw', 'claimed' an' 'described'. He's dead then?”  
"Clever," the commander murmured with a mirthless smile. ”Such a one would speak all he knew to the Enemy the moment he realised his life was threatened. Of course he is dead; he should have been so the moment he had completed his task.”  
”Well I was a bit busy at the time. 'Sides, I didn't know he'd seen anythin'.”  
”You need not concern your master with that; damage control is already underway.” He took the jar with the grey powder. ”Do you know the antidote to this?”  
”...Yeah.”  
”Will it work even when the poisoning has progressed far?”  
”Yup. It'll take longer to take effect, but it'll work.” Praktash cocked his head. ”I might be able to whip somethin' up that'll help the liver replenish too. Call it damage control,” he added with a lopsided grin that the Black Hand did not return.  
”Lord Záhovar is... fortunate, to have such a skilled and perceptive 'quartermaster' in her retinue. Name your price and you shall have it.”  
Praktash listed some things that were very hard to come by in Lugburz, mainly booze ingredients and drugs. Then he gambled a little and added a barrel of salted aurochs meat to the list. ”An' no scammin'; I want it all properly prepared an' usable. No mold or rot or some such shit.”  
”And you shall have it.” The Black Hand bowed a little with a mocking smirk. ”My lady.” Then he spun and left, black cloak billowing behind him.  
Praktash stared after him. _'My lady'?!_  
  
He waited for Záhovar to return to the tower and found her just as she slumped down into one of the lounge chairs. ”The Black Hand came by earlier.”  
Záhovar glanced at him. ”Did he now?”  
”Yup. He had heard about my 'reputation' an' wanted me to make antidote.”  
”And you agreed?”  
”I sure did. Named a pretty price too, I've no idea if he'll be able to get it all.”  
She sighed. ”He must be desperate to reveal such a weakness to another High Officer... That, or he is probing our defenses.”  
Praktash frowned. ”Defenses?”  
”Yes. Tell me what happened, every detail.”  
Praktash obeyed while unbuckling her armour. ”The way he said it, mentionin' the poisonin' in Thaurband... It's like he was cashin' in a debt.”  
”It does. Mentioning a serious oversight on my part while opening up for his 'generosity' to be repaid without involving me directly... his actions reek of politics. He wants something from me, that much I can tell.” She looked at him. ”Why did you not wait to consult me before agreeing? Now he knows that I am not as in control of my snaga as I pretend.”  
”Was just thinkin' of savin' my own skin... Skai, this whole Top One business is complicated! Why can'tcha just fight it out on the sparrin' grounds or somethin' instead of involvin' the rest of us?”  
”Why would we deign to get our hands dirty?” Záhovar asked with a smirk. ”That is what snaga are for.”  
”You,” Praktash growled and pointed at her with the greave he had just removed, ”are a mind-messin' makatok!”  
Graznikh chose that moment to enter.   
”Where are the other two?” Záhovar asked him.  
”Busy with some game with ridiculous rules, as usual.” He crashed down into another chair and gave her a fond look. ”You look worn out, âmbal.”  
”An' she'll be even more so after this,” Praktash chuckled as he handed her a thin stack of leather sheets and parchments. ”Reports for today,” he said. ”A few letters, drartul Vukash says 'hi'... Or at least I think he does. That one really needs to work on his writin' skills. An' some guy askin' for tokens.”  
”Disregard that one. What word from Vukash?”   
Vukash was an Uruk commander from Garmadh's troop who had been placed in charge of the outpost that Záhovar had established. He belonged to the nudrokatûr, the engineering squad, and had proved quite adept at constructing fortifications. Zhugruzh, with its advantageous position near the southern trade route, was slowly growing to be one of the larger fortresses in the southern reaches of the Mountains of Shadow.  
”He's doin' fine, or so he says. Rabble's all sorted an' they've pinpointed the last o' the rebels. Been havin' some trouble with spiders in the pass, but they've agreed to a truce... Or somethin' like that; I can't read the last sentences.”  
”Reply and tell him to return to Lugburz.”   
Graznikh looked up from the armour he was polishing. ”Izzit time?”  
Záhovar nodded.  
”Time for what?” Praktash asked. Záhovar did not reply, but gave him a small smile. The Uruk stared intently at her, then cracked up into a big grin. ”He's gonna get promoted, isn't he?”  
She gave him another nod and he hurried back to the desk. ”Don't worry, I won't tell!”  
At that moment the door bell rang. It was an ingenious contraption; in the outer wall beside the gate, a large iron ring was fastened. From it, an iron chain ran through the wall and was connected via a pulley system to a large bell that hung from the ceiling in the center of the audience hall. The bell itself was enchanted so that whenever someone pulled the ring outside, everyone in the tower heard it as if it was located in the same room.  
”Shit!” Praktash exclaimed as he dropped the pen. ”I'll never get used to that!”  
Graznikh began to rise but Praktash motioned for him to stay put. ”Don't worry, I'll get it.” As he hurried down the stairs and opened the door, he found himself face to face with the Black Hand.  
”My lord Hand,” he said, bowing deeply and opening the door to let him in. But the Hand did not move.  
”I seek the Shadow,” he said. _Must've waited for her to return,_ Praktash thought.  
”I am here,” Záhovar replied as she strode down the stairs.  
He inclined his head slightly and gave her a small smile. ”I have a request to make of thee,” he said formally and motioned for her to follow. ”May we..?”  
Záhovar hesitated for a moment, then she nodded and turned to Graznikh who had come down to see what was going on. ”Finish your tasks, then you are free for the night.” When she left, the Hand looked into the hall as if searching for something. Graznikh frowned as their eyes briefly locked. The Hand left after giving him a strange, stern look. Graznikh scowled. _The fuck was that all about?_  
  
Záhovar heard Agannâlô catch up as she walked across the bridge and into the large hallway beyond. ”What do you want?” she repeated. Then she spun and drew one of her hidden daggers. Agannâlô's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he felt the steel against his throat and slowly removed the hand he had placed on his belt pocket.  
”I apologise,” he said with a clear voice. ”I should not have attempted stealth behind someone with such keen senses.”  
”What do you want!?” Záhovar hissed.  
”Merely to give you something,” Agannâlô said. ”But not out here. Let us..?” He made a small motion with his hand towards the wide stairway leading to his own quarters. Záhovar snorted and removed the blade from his throat without replying, but followed and entered as he opened the door for her with a courteous bow.  
The Black Hand's quarters were as large as her own despite being located within the Tower proper. His study was cluttered with books, parchments, weapons and armour of various make. On one wall were several shelves that held miniature versions of siege weaponry, and on another hung several framed maps of Lugburz, Númenor, Khand, Rhûn, the vale of the Great River west of the Outer Fence and other realms that Záhovar did not recognise. In another, smaller cupboard with glass-inserted doors were several strategic games and a vast assortment of miniature soldier figures made of tin, each one sculptured to perfection despite their diminutive size.  
”An impressive collection,” Záhovar commented.  
”Thank you,” Agannâlô replied. ”Each siege piece can be fully dismantled; it helps to know how they are contructed when preparing for a siege, no matter which side you are on.”  
”Do you plan for a siege?”  
”I cannot say there will _not_ be one at some point. If everything goes according to plan, Thaurband will be in the way of the Enemy army. If it can hold out long enough for the trap at Nûrza-Shuk to close...”  
”Such a battle may be decades away,” Záhovar pointed out.  
”Centuries. But there is no harm in planning ahead and preparing for all eventualities.”  
”Well spoken, and true.” She watched as Agannâlô went over to a pair of large curtains and pulled a hidden string. As they parted, they revealed a panorama window, made up of several smaller panes fitted with lead, that offered a splendid view of the mountains in the northeast.  
”Surely you did not bring me here solely to brag,” Záhovar commented with a little smirk. ”What is this message that you require such great secrecy to relay?”  
Agannâlô gestured towards two chairs on each side of a small table and waited until Záhovar sat down before he followed suit. ”Our master has decided to make some changes in the army.”  
”Out with it; have I been demoted?”  
Agannâlô smiled. ”Of course not! But it is not my place to say more; He will speak with you soon enough.”  
Záhovar nodded. ”You mentioned a gift earlier.”  
”Indeed.” Agannâlô reached for his belt pocket again, but not before giving her a wary glance. Then he held its contents up for Záhovar to see.   
There were two large discs, seemingly made out of bone or ivory. One had the emblem of Númenor, the White Tree, carved upon its surface. Záhovar recognised it from a book she had found in the Great Library during her apprenticeship; a book that Gîrakûn had punished her harshly for even touching. But there were a few slight changes to the emblem that Agannâlô held; the Tree was withered and leafless. The other had a symbol resembling a stylized butterfly of the kind that thrived in the Desolation.  
”These are made from the tooth I brought, are they not?” Záhovar said.  
”Indeed,” Agannâlô said and held the Butterfly out to her. ”One for you and one for me. The Mouth has been given one as well.”  
”Why give these to all three of us?” Záhovar asked as she took it from him.  
”Because my prayers have been answered,” Agannâlô replied with a wry smile. ”The time of strife is over, and the Great Tower must stand united. What better way to promote unity than to share in each others' success?”  
”A sensible notion, I suppose. Is it yours or His?”  
”Mine,” Agannâlô admitted, ”but He shares it. Do you?”  
”Like I said, it is sensible.”  
”I see... What would it take to change your mind?”  
”Change my mind to _what_?”  
Agannâlô looked around as if searching for an answer. ”From... 'sensible' to 'agreeable'?” Then he threw his hands up. ”Nay, I jest. 'Sensible' is fine.”  
  
Záhovar turned the disc over in her hand. She could feel the power emanating from it; not only the ghâshgoth's own, but the same kind of power that had been imbued into the brooch she had worn before she became the Dark Lord's Shadow; the brooch that had nearly ended her life. ”Why did He not give these to us in person?”  
”Because He is not here. He left to journey into the East shortly before you left for the South. I do not know why and I do not question. The Mouth and I have been governing in His absence.”  
He filled two glasses with a purple liquor and sipped his own before handing the other to her; a customary gesture to prove that there was no poison in it, and if there was, that he too would fall to it. Záhovar accepted the glass with a nod.  
”To tell you the truth,” Agannâlô said, ”I did not expect Dachman to turn traitor.”   
”Despite everything, I still doubt that he truly did go rogue. He seemed more intent on catering favour.”  
”No doubt he wanted the honours you received from bringing back that tooth and the knowledge of where to find the rest. But you did so while serving Him; that is where Dachman went wrong. We were all lucky that he was only after personal gain. Had he gone to the Enemy, much would have been at risk.” He cocked his head a little as he met Záhovar's gaze. ”Did you know that Dachman was Gîrakûn's son? One she was... I shan't say 'fond of'; I doubt that one such as she is capable of such sentiments. But she held him in high regard, that much was certain. It would seem that you have made a powerful enemy.”  
”I did not know that. But it makes little difference; she was my enemy already before.”  
”Oh? Humour me.”  
A wicked smile played on Záhovar's lips as she told Agannâlô of what had transpired in Blog Shakâmb. She made a few slight changes by not mentioning the bond or Kaelun, but even so, the Hand uttered a few curses in Black Speech when Záhovar was done. ”That desiccated old fool! She knew full well the importance of your mission and from whence the order came! How dare she delay you like that?”  
”She was even so brash as to tell me that, had she succeeded in subduing me, she would have had me violated by her Uruks for her viewing pleasure.”  
Agannâlô gave her a strange look. ”And still you ventured with those very Uruks into the wild, not only keeping them in check but succeeding in the mission with which you had been tasked...”  
”Why would I not? His word is Law.”  
He nodded slowly. ”I must admit that I have at times questioned your choice of company.”  
”The Black Uruks are the most loyal troops this land can muster. Their strength matches that of Men while not having the disadvantage of being blind at night.”  
”I do not doubt their usefulness.”  
”Then what is your objection?”  
He shook his head. ”None of importance enough to be mentioned here.”  
  
  
Záhovar decided to change the subject. ”Has there been any word regarding Thaurband?”  
”None yet, but I would not be surprised if it was given to you. You are one of the Three after all, you have no keep of your own and you have expertly dispatched its former master.”  
Záhovar narrowed her eyes. ”Are you trying to flatter me?”  
”No.” He said it with such sincerity that it was an obvious lie, and the little smile he gave her afterwards confirmed her suspicions.  
”How long have you paved the way for me? How much do I owe you?”  
”You owe me nothing,” Agannâlô said quietly. ”And I hope you can forgive me for not answering your first question.”  
”Why do you do this?”  
”Would it be strange for me to say that I believe in you? You are strong and capable; what I have done has been as much for my own gain as for yours.”  
”You believe me capable but would not allow me to rise on my own merits?”  
”Who says that you have not risen on your own merits? I have simply pointed them out, made them more visible. You are far too humble, Záhovar. There is no flaw in owning your victories.”  
”So says the man who was all but invisible for years, up until the point where he suddenly stands up in the audience hall in front of the assembled representatives of the known world and tells the Dark Lord to His face that He is wrong.”  
Agannâlô threw his hands out with a sheepish grin. ”Invisible to others, perhaps, but not to Him. You are not the only one who can dance in the shadows.”  
”Few things that I have done of late can be described as 'dancing'.”  
”Indeed? Then perhaps you should, if I may be so bold. It can be quite relaxing for the mind... or so I've heard.”  
Záhovar arched an eyebrow. ”Is that a serious suggestion?”  
”Have you never tried it?”  
”No. I... The opportunity has never appeared.”  
Agannâlô chuckled into his glass. ”Thaurband has a grand audience hall. It would be suitable for such an opportunity, if you should like.”  
”It is not mine yet. I will not celebrate victories I have yet to win.”  
”A wise sentiment.”  
They drank in silence for a while. Then the Black Hand cleared his throat.   
”What I _suggest,_ is a... political union, to solidify our alliance.”   
Záhovar paused. ”A... what?”  
”It is a common enough thing in ill-fated Númenor, and neither is it unusual among our neighbours. It would, hopefully, eliminate any remaining rivalry between us and prove to allies and enemies alike that we stand strong together.”  
Záhovar had begun to lift her glass to her lips, but froze halfway. ”What kind of 'union' is it you want, exactly?”  
Agannâlô smiled. ”Do you not know?” He sighed as he recognised her bewildered expression. ”I am speaking of marriage.”  
Záhovar had no idea what to reply. ”Why me?”  
”Why not you? You have proven strong, resilient and brave. Rare traits in a woman, even here.”  
”If it is strength you want... Why not ask Gîrakûn? She is far stronger than I.”  
Agannâlô's disgusted sneer spoke as clearly as his words. ”You know full well what I think of that distasteful slattern! I am surprised she was at all able to conceive, what with all the filth those 'playthings' of hers have been spewing into her quim.” He made a move as if to spit something out, then took a sip from his glass. ”No. The mere thought is repulsive.”  
Záhovar carefully arranged her face into an expression that she hoped appeared innocent, surprised and slightly relieved. ”You do not believe the rumours, then?”  
”What, Dachman's slander? Of course not. The man was a compulsive fabricator and all knew the undue animosity he held towards you. I am surprised so many actually believed them. I must say, your choice of Lug-snaga is not a bad one. For all their viciousness, Orcs are easily controlled. And that female Uruk is a remarkable specimen; it must have taken much convincing to make Gîrakûn give up room in the pits for that. Or was it part of the price she paid for assaulting you?”  
Záhovar choked down the laughter that threatened to overtake her by sipping her drink. _Orcs, easily controlled? And 'female Uruk'..? Oh._ ”Praktash? Yes, she is rather... skilled.”  
”I can imagine,” Agannâlô said. ”Having such an intimidating chaperone must surely keep others from defiling your virtue. Unlike that lecherous witch, I can tell you are far above such things; a true lady, as they would say in Númenor. And in a place like this, all the more admirable.” He lifted his glass in a toast before downing the last of its contents.  
”Your offer is unexpected,” Záhovar said carefully after drinking the last of hers. ”Will you give me some time to think it over?”  
”Of course, take as long as you need. I shall not mention it again; this next step is yours. My lady,” he added with a courteous smile. 

Záhovar excused herself at the first opportunity and let Agannâlô escort her to the door. She gave him one last nod before walking down the hallway with all the grace of her forgotten heritage. She opened the door to her tower without even the slightest shake of her hand and closed it behind her without looking back. She strode up the stairs and threw a glance around her quarters with elevated poise. Graznikh and Sulmurz were lying in a pile of downy feathers and torn silks in the bed, both purring contentedly after an evidently brutal pillowfight. She returned their sleepy greetings before bursting out into an uncharacteristic bout of laughter that made the Orcs start.  
”What the everloving fuck..?” Graznikh breathed as he stared at his laughing mistress.  
”Meetin' went well, I suppose?” Praktash asked with an unsure grin as he peeked out of the bathroom, shadowed by a wide-eyed Kaelun. Záhovar could not reply; she was laughing so hard that she wept and had collapsed against the door post. After a shared look of utter confusion, they moved to help her.  
”Easy there,” Praktash said with a grin as they hauled the still giggling Officer into an armchair.   
”Hurts,” Záhovar whimpered, clutching her stomach.  
”That'd be the muscles you haven't used in half an Age,” Graznikh chuckled. ”I haven't seen ya laugh like that in... forever. Did he drug ya or something?”  
”No, he...” She gasped as the laughter threatened to overwhelm her again. Eventually she managed to recount what had been said, and now it was the Orcs' turn to laugh.  
”And he believes... He truly believes that Praktash is female! And that 'she' is my chaperone to keep others off my 'virtue'!”  
” _What?!”_ Praktash squeaked. ”Stop that, it's not funny!” Graznikh and Sulmurz laughed into the torn mattress until they were snorting, coughing and spitting feathers and Kaelun let out a shocked little titter.  
”Let him keep his innocence,” Záhovar said once she was breathing normally again. ”It might be of use later.”  
”If I weren't so bloody tired I'd give you a ride to celebrate your 'chastity',” Graznikh purred.  
”But why did he ask you over?” Praktash asked. ”Just to gossip?”  
”No, he...” The smile rapidly vanished from her face. ”He wants to... form an alliance.”  
”Aren'tcha allies already?”  
”In flesh.”  
”That sounds more than a bit creepy.”  
”Out with it,” Graznikh grunted. ”What'd he want?”  
Záhovar gave him a strange glance. ”He wants to breed.”  
”Well, that's easy to shut down,” Praktash said rapidly to forestall Graznikh's explosion. ”I mean, y'can't do that... can you?”  
Záhovar's face was a porcelain mask void of all emotion. ”No.”  
”Thought as much,” he replied with a smirk. ”After all, if you could, you woulda been knocked up long ago.”  
”Why _isn't_ she knocked up?” Sulmurz asked.  
Praktash bared his fangs. ”Shut up, snaga!”  
”Nar, _you_ shut up! She's got a plashnâk, right? How come she hasn't whelped?”  
”That was an illusion, you've been dippin' your todger in her dung hole this whole time.”  
”Praktash... not now.” It was not Sulmurz who spoke this time but Záhovar. Praktash nodded and backed away. ”I do not know why I am not... 'knocked up'. Perhaps the events that turned me into what I am rendered me infertile, perhaps there's another reason entirely. I cannot say. But in any case, I will not take him up on his offer. I must only find a way to turn him down without insulting him.”  
”That one's daft even for a Top One,” Graznikh muttered. ”We haven't exactly denied the rumours about ya being an Orc-fancier. Spread 'em on purpose, even. How come he doesn't know?”  
”Folks see an' hear whatever they wanna sometimes,” Praktash replied while rolling his eyes. ”You'd be amazed at how clueless some guys can be when confronted with truths they don't wanna recognise.” The last words he spoke while staring straight at Sulmurz, who discreetly tried to hide behind the bedpost.  
In an attempt to change focus, Sulmurz looked at Kaelun. ”So whaddya think?”  
Kaelun frowned in confusion. ”A-about what?”  
”'Bout this whole deal with the breeding'n shit.”  
”I don't...” He looked down. ”I don't know what it means.”  
That made Graznikh snap out of his furious brooding. ”You don't _what?_ ”  
Kaelun tried to shrink into the wall.  
”Leave it,” Záhovar snapped. ”This is a problem for another night. Graznikh, Sulmurz; go fetch dinner. And _you,_ ” she glanced at Praktash and Kaelun, ”will help me out of my armour and give me a massage.”  
Praktash flashed her a grin. ”Happy endin'?”  
”How come I never get to do that?” Graznikh complained. Sulmurz muttered his agreement.  
Záhovar smirked at that. ”You might be back in time... _If_ you hurry up with the food. And not drop anything, of course.”  
Graznikh immediately gave the other Orc a hard shove in the direction of the stairs. ”What the fuck're you just standing there for?! Move it!!”  


The following morning, Kaelun was busy changing the sheets in the bed room when the door bell rang.  
”I'm busy,” Praktash called from below. Kaelun sighed and dropped the half-folded sheet.  
The caller was a Lug-snaga. ”Message to lord Záhovar,” she murmured through stitched lips and held out a letter. Kaelun took it without a word and closed the gate; he was too busy looking at it to care about anything else. The envelope was not made of the crude, grey parchment commonly used by the low-ranking scholars and bureaucrats of the Tower but white vellum, a rare and expensive commodity in the Black Land. A chill ran down his spine when he saw the seal.   
”Who is it?” Praktash called.  
”Just a letter.”  
”Right... boooring.”  
”Yes...”  
Once he had reached the High Officer's study, he opened the letter. Záhovar had given him permission to do so, not knowing that he knew how to read. Now he read the words written by his former mistress' hand and felt the air tighten in his throat with every syllable.  
Kaelun smiled as he placed the open letter on the High Officer's desk. Life had been so good lately... almost too good to be real. He had foiled her plans again, of course; somehow he always did. But things were different this time, so very different... Perhaps she had finally grown sloppy? There was only one way to find out, and a new kind of determination settled in his features as he knelt beside the corner shelf where Praktash kept what belongings he could not carry.  
Praktash frowned when he heard ceramics shatter upstairs. ”Brother?”  
He got up and climbed the stairs to investigate when Kaelun did not answer. He called once more when he reached the top floor but there was still no reply. Searching the rooms, he found Kaelun sitting crosslegged on the floor of the Lug-snaga sleeping quarters, toying with a piece of the bowl that he had dropped.  
Praktash stared at the mess that used to be his corner shelf. ”What'd you do?” He grabbed Kaelun by the neck. ”What did you _do?!_ ”  
”I'm settin' myself free.”  
”What?! But...” He bared his fangs. ”What'd you take? _Tell me!!_ ” he shouted when Kaelun refused to answer.  
”I wanna be free.”  
Praktash gave him a helpless look. ”But you _are_ free!”  
Kaelun shook his head with a sad little smile. ”I don't know that. I'll never know. I wake up every night fearin' the moment when I understand that none of this is real. An' even if it _is_ real, I'll always fear the moment when she comes to take me back. I'll never be free, little brother, not for real.”   
Praktash let him go and leaned back against the wall. It was too much; he could not take it in, so he simply sat down and stared at the floor instead.  
”D'you remember the promise you made me?” Kaelun asked. ”Long ago?”  
Praktash nodded. He did not want to speak the words out loud, but did so anyway. ”I promised I'd let ya go...”  
”Please... I can't go on like this. I'm not as strong as you. I wouldn't be able to do what you did. Lemme go. Please.”  
Praktash sobbed. ”But if you go, then... What about me? What about _us?_ ”  
Kaelun smiled. ”Look at ya! You've got others who care. You _know_ stuff. You're not alone, not the way I am.”  
”You're not alone!! I'm here, the others too! _We're_ here!”  
Kaelun shook his head. ”This is yours, little brother. I can't take that an' live out the rest of my time through you. Besides, the memories'll never fade. I'll never be able to get past 'em. Please... let me go.”  
”You don't even know if it's better on the other side!”  
”It is. I've seen it, so many times when... when I got done with an' was close. It's beautiful, like nothin' you've ever seen! I'm not afraid to go there. I'm ready.”  
Praktash searched Kaelun's eyes, but there was no hesitation in them. ”You sure about this?”  
”As sure as I'll ever be. Of anythin'. This is _real._ ”  
Praktash began to cry harder as Kaelun gasped and struggled to focus. He could barely see his face through the tears. ”You really sure?”  
Kaelun nodded with an almost tranquil expression despite the pain of the poison coursing through his veins. ”You got through; you got out. I never did. Never will. It's all I know, an' I don't _want_ to know.” Then he gasped again and smiled. The tense crease in his face that had been there for as long as Praktash had known him smoothed out. ”I'll wait for ya, little brother. Even if you go before the others, you'll have one who cares in the Void too.”  
”I won't forget ya, big brother,” Praktash sobbed. ”I'll remember ya!” 

_I don't want to be alone._

 


	9. The Dushatâr

Graznikh did not know what it was that alerted him to danger. For some reason his instincts flared; he threw the table over as he bolted for the ale house door, sending dice scattering and ignoring the surprised curses from Sulmurz and the others. Once outside, the world began to spin dangerously and he scrambled to reach a wall to lean against before his stomach emptied everything he had previously consumed.  
Sulmurz reached him shortly afterwards. ”What the fuck, chief? Seein' booze wraiths?”  
Graznikh shook his head and took a few shuddering breaths to steady himself. ”Shut up, ya dice rigging piss-pot! There's...” He frowned as he tried to focus, eyes locking onto the Tower above. ”Something's wrong up there, really fucking wrong! I gotta go!”  
”Oi, wait!”  
Graznikh left Sulmurz behind. Out into the streets, through the upper gate, into the Tower he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Up the stairs, through a hallway, more stairs, twisting and turning and shoving people out of the way, not caring whether they were snaga or Uruks or Top Ones. Another corridor, then another flight of stairs would take him where he had to go.  
  
  
His race against time was cut short by a cudgel to the crotch. He wheezed and crashed to the ground, rolling twice before stopping on his knees. He stayed that way, clutching his groin and moaning in pain while a pair of feet covered in purple velvet slippers stopped beside his head.  
”Have your years in the Tower taught you nothing of manners?” Gîrakûn tapped a finger against her lips with a thoughtful expression as she looked down. ”Oh, it's you.”  
Graznikh chuckled mirthlessly through gritted teeth. ”I've got manners aplenty, Nashrakû. Just not for you.”  
Gîrakûn smiled. ”Forgotten your place, I see. Or did 'lord' Záhovar not instruct you properly? Speaking to a High Officer without permission is punishable... by death.”  
”You really wanna piss her off again? Didn't go all that well for ya last time, as I recall.”  
”Indeed... and as _I_ recall, you nearly got her killed.”  
That made Graznikh angry. He badly wanted to bite back in earnest, but this was one of the most dangerous people in Lugburz; he could not afford to be outspoken here. Seething, he grasped instead for one of those empty 'courtesies' that Záhovar had made him remember and use when he first entered her service. ”If you'll excuse me,” he growled, I've got other things to do.”  
”Is that so? I believe I have been offended... again.” She snapped her fingers towards the Rhunlander soldiers that followed her. ”Subdue him.”  
  
”No. Remain where you are.” Other footsteps, this time made by sturdy leather boots, approached from a spot he could not see. Gîrakûn turned with a hiss and as the steps stopped, Graznikh dared to look up at his unexpected saviour. He felt the bile rise in his throat when he realised it was a tark. The Man wore body-hugging armour of the same strange, onyx-like metal as Záhovar's, with polished chainmaille and deep red broadcloth underneath. His face was regal and solemn, framed with silvery-white hair under a black hood; his eyes glowed like fire behind amber glass. _What is it with Top Ones and funny eyes? Tryin' to look like Orcs, are ya?_  
”You have no reason to interfere in my personal affairs,” Gîrakûn snapped.  
”Oh, but I do,” the Man said with a smirk, ”for I am but a messenger. You have been summoned. Now.” Graznikh did not need to look at the witch. He could smell her sudden fear and had to struggle to keep the leer off his face. _That's right. Beat it, witch. Ya fucked up bad; enjoy the consequences!_ He did not know what she had done to have reason to smell like that, nor what whoever had summoned her had in store for her. But he could always dream, and a gory, painfilled dream it was.  
  
”Dessicated old fool,” the Man muttered under his breath once the witch was out of hearing range. As Graznikh sat up, wincing slightly at the pain, he turned his gaze and gave him a scrutinising look before scanning the hall. At first it seemed as though the Man was waiting for something, but then he turned to Graznikh again.  
”Your master is quite safe,” he said. ”Walk with me for a bit.”  
”See, I only got your word on that,” Graznikh replied as he stood. ”And I've no clue who you are, so...”  
”I am the Black Hand, dúrauk of the armies of Lugburz. Your master's... colleague, I suppose one could call it. And her ally; I pose no imminent threat to you for the time being.”  
 _Right. Should've remembered that. Bloody tarks, they all look alike!_ ”Ally, huh? Strange ally who never shows up when he's needed.”  
The tark smiled a little. ”And what am I needed for? Lord Záhovar has done admirably so far; I am impressed, and no doubt rightly so. Come, let us speak together.”  
Graznikh looked around and pretended to be suspicious and indecisive while reaching out to Záhovar. The anxiety that had overwhelmed him down in the ale house was still strong, but if this 'Hand' truly was an ally he had to be careful. Once he felt Záhovar respond through the bond he sent her a memory of the 'Black Hand' along with a sense of wonder and suspicion. When he received reassurance and calm back, he nodded. ”Fine. Let's talk.”  
The Black Hand led the way to a large balcony that extended out from the Tower at the end of the main hallway on the sixteenth floor, where it faced the Mountain and gave a grand view of the Gorgoroth plateau. Up here the wind was strong and the air fresh, with only the tiniest hint of sulphur and decay.  
”Looks like Moody Mountain's acting up again,” Graznikh commented as the mountain in question spewed out liquid fire from its top. A low, thunderous roar followed shortly afterwards.  
The Black Hand arched an eyebrow. ”Is that what your kind calls it?”  
Graznikh shrugged. ”Nobody cared to tell me its real name, so I just made one up myself.”  
The Officer nodded slowly. ”It has many names. I myself am rather fond of 'Amon Amarth'.”  
”Doesn't mean batshit to me.”  
”It means 'Mount Doom' in the tongue of the Elves. Or, one of their tongues.”  
”Bloody Elves can't make up their minds 'bout anything.”  
The Black hand smirked. ”Are Orcs any better? You seem fond of distorting the Black Speech and all others whenever you are given the chance. 'Consistency' is not a word you are readily associated with.”  
Graznikh gave him a lopsided grin. ”Can't expect us grunts to be as pompous-sounding as you Top Ones, can ya? Words need some adaptin' for base purposes.” He returned his gaze to the Mountain. ”So are we here to discuss geography'n linguistics?”  
Agannâlô gave the Orc a sharp look. _Where did it learn such words? Has she attempted to educate it?_ He gave the pale Orc a closer look that it either ignored or was oblivious of. For the most part, it looked and sounded like any other Orc; its speech was riddled with the beast-like growls and purrs that made Orcs difficult to comprehend, but the way it pronounced some words made it easier to understand. _Is that deliberate? Záhovar's doing too, perhaps?_  
”I hear your master is doing well.”  
”You've probably had better accounts of it than I do.”  
”Have I? You were there.”  
”Hard to get a proper look-over when you're down in the middle of it.”  
”Still, it is a unique perspective.”  
The Orc snorted. ”Should the Eye haul me in for questioning too?”  
”Is it not sufficient that I do?”  
  
Graznikh met the Officer's eye. ”'S that what this is?” The Black Hand made no reply and Graznikh sighed. ”If the Eye didn't make that report public, I don't see why I should go against that.”  
”A wise sentiment.” Agannâlô decided to go about things differently. ”Do you have any guess as to what lady Gîrakûn wanted with you?”  
”Probably the same as she wants with everyone with a cock; delve into my head, ride me raw'n toss me in the bagronk when she's done.” He gave the Officer a quizzical glance as the latter burst into a laughter that seemed as unexpected to himself as it was to Graznikh. Once the Black Hand regained control, he cleared his throat with an embarrassed scowl. ”Truer words were never spoken, if... uncouthly phrased. But why you?”  
”Why not?” Graznikh bared his fangs in something that might have been a smile but that never reached his eyes. ”My master stole her toy. No wonder she tries to steal hers in turn.”  
The Hand suddenly looked disturbed. ”Toy?”  
”Ever been to Blog Shakâmb? Pretty little thing, looks more like a half-grown tark than a Black Uruk.” Graznikh took careful note of the slight widening of the High Officer's eyes. _Bad memories?_  
”Yes, I... seem to recall the one you speak of.” Then he frowned. ”She _took_ it? When?”  
Graznikh leered. ”Nashrakû tried to do the same to her as she did to him, but she wouldn't have it. Tried to mess with the rest o' us too, make it so she failed the mission down south. So my master beat her up soundly, twice. The last time she took her pet as a reminder that nothing ever lasts.”  
Agannâlô nodded in understanding. ”So _that's_ what the summons was about...” Then he smirked. ”A catfight in the Top, then? This shall be interesting.”  
Graznikh let out a snorting chuckle. ”If I had some booze, I'd drink to that.”  
They watched 'Mount Doom' in silence for a while.  
”You could always suggest to have 'em fight it out hand-to-hand,” Graznikh added. ”Naked. Preferably in a mud pit.”  
The Black Hand scowled in disgust. ”I have no wish to see that paranoid old hag in such a situation.”  
”Now now, that's not a nice way to speak 'bout my master,” Graznik murmured and bit his lip.   
Agannâlô gave him a cold glare. ”Mind your tongue, Orc!” But Graznikh could tell from the slight tremble in his voice that he was desperately trying to suppress more laughter.  
”But,” he continued unscathed, ”I know what'cha mean. What's up with that old rag anyway? Why's she so bloody important?”  
”She is only the most powerful sorcerer that Lugburz has at its disposal, and she is deep in our Master's counsel. She is one of the few irreplacable pieces in this game.” The Black Hand glanced down at him. ”She was your master's mentor too, early on.”  
”Aye, I know. Met her once or twice.”  
Agannâlô frowned. ”You had dealings with lord Záhovar before she was elevated?”  
”Aye, was her trainer. In fighting'n... such things.”  
Now the Black Hand looked at him in earnest. ” _You_ were the one who killed her previous trainers?”  
Graznikh tensed. _Shit!!_ ”...Aye. But most of 'em were on her orders.” _Sorry for snitching on ya, master, but I gotta save my own neck here!_  
The Black Hands' eyes narrowed. ”Which ones were not?”  
”The first'n the third. And I only killed the first 'cause he was going to kill _her_ ; couldn't have that.”  
”Why not?”  
Graznikh decided that it was time to scram. ”Go ask her if you want details. Now I've got stuff to do.”  
”No, you do not.” The Black Hand put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around. Graznikh's hands went to his knives, but as he looked into the Black Hand's hypnotically glowing eyes he was suddenly as helpless as he had been the night when the Dark Lord caught him.  
”I would advise against that,” the Black Hand said softly. ”Drawing arms against me would be a mistake that you would not survive. Now you will answer me, and you will answer truthfully; how long have you known Záhovar? What do you mean to her?”  
As Graznikh opened his mouth to answer, _something_ happened. He was not sure what it was; all of a sudden the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the Black Hand recoiled as though he had been struck. Once he recovered, he stared at Graznikh with an expression of mixed anger and disbelief. ”How is this..?”  
Graznikh did not care to stick around; as soon as he regained control of his limbs he bolted towards the safety of Záhovar's tower. The moment he entered the High Officer's living quarters, his senses were assailed all at once. The sight of Kaelun's lifeless body. The sound of Praktash's muffled crying and the stench of death and dismay. _Oh, shit. Záhovar..! ZÁHOVAR!!!  
  
_  
Agannâlô glared after the Orc for a moment before heading to his study. Just as he sat down at the desk, the door slave announced the arrival of a 'lord Rizwan'.  
”Send him in,” he commanded and picked up a parchment and pen, pretending to be hard at work.   
Rizwan marched in shortly after and greeted him with a curt salute. ”My lord.”  
”I thought you might come by,” Agannâlô said without looking up. ”I take it you overheard all you needed.”  
”That I did. I am in your debt.”  
”Quite... and have you found your closure?”  
”For the most part.”  
Agannâlô put the parchment down and gave him a stern look. ”Do not play coy with me! Speak plainly; yes or no?”  
Rizwan hesitated for a moment. ”No.”  
”When will you?”  
”When that murderer rests in pieces on his fellows' dinner plates.”  
”And I forbid you to raise your hand against my colleague's slave. Or _slaves,_ for that matter. Have I made myself clear?”  
A moment of tense silence followed. Rizwan's nostrils flared ever so slightly, but then the moment had passed and he nodded. ”Yes, my lord. I understand.”  
Agannâlô studied the man's ebony complexion. ”You are from Mumakân, correct?”  
”My parents were. I was born and raised in Khand.”  
”Your dossier says you have some skill with horses.”  
”Yes, I rode with the warring nomads for many years before I entered the service of the Tower. They were trying times, but educational.”  
Agannâlô opened a chest and picked up a scrollcase that he placed on the desk and pushed towards Rizwan. ”There is a task I need done that I have been unable to find the right person for. If you wish to get your hands bloody...”  
Rizwan opened the case; his eyes widened as they darted across the hastily written lines. When done, he bowed. ”I will see it done, my lord.”  
”Good. Do not disappoint me.”  
  
  
A week later, Kaelun still lay comatose in his bed. The only sign of life was his slow, shallow breathing and weak pulse. Praktash had refused to help him at first since Kaelun's dying wish had been for them all to let go. But Záhovar proclaimed in no uncertain terms that she did not care what anyone else wanted, that they had not gone through all the recent struggles to let him slip away now and that Kaelun owed her his life. Their argument had made Graznikh glad that they no longer lived in the Tower proper; there would have been no need to eavesdrop as everyone on the same level would have heard the shouting. The fight had ended with Praktash having a breakdown and caving to her demands.  
”Skai,” Sulmurz muttered, staring into his mug with wide eyes. ”Glad I'm not on the receivin' end o' _that_.”  
”She sure knows how to scream when she's pissed,” Graznikh replied.   
Sulmurz spat. ”That stupid little... He just had to go'n ruin everything, didn't he?”  
”Shut up.”  
”What, you're gonna start bawling too?”  
”I said shut the fuck up!”  
Sulmurz bared his fangs but the collar suddenly felt like a slowly tightening noose, telling him that Záhovar was fully aware of where things were headed and that she would have none of it. He quickly backed down.  
Once he recovered, Praktash did everything in his power to heal Kaelun but without success; only time would tell if he would ever wake up again or waste away from lack of food and water.

”I've known him for almost as long as I can remember,” Praktash said quietly. He lay on Záhovar's bed with his head in Graznikh's lap. Záhovar was sitting in an armchair with Sulmurz massaging her shoulders. ”He was there already when I first got thrown into that dungeon.”  
”I believed that Gîrakûn had caught a younger Uruk after you escaped,” Záhovar said. ”Molded him in your image.”  
Praktash shook his head. ”Nar, he's way older than me. I've no idea how long he'd been in there when I first met him. But he was way clearer back then, not as broken. I guess I helped him hold on. An' when I left, I guess he sorta just... gave up.”  
”Bit o' a funny way to celebrate his freedom then, innit?” Sulmurz said.   
Graznikh, Praktash and Záhovar turned on him as one. ”Shut up!”  
”Was just sayin'... Fine, then.”  
”I don't need your fuckin' lip,” Praktash snarled. ”Things're shitty enough without that!”  
”Sometimes you go through stuff what makes ya wanna die,” Graznikh said without looking at anyone in particular. ”Stuff that's too painful, that ya can't forget. Losses you can't get over.” He glanced at Sulmurz. ”Don't throw jabs at folks who can't deal with that shit. Just be happy you don't hafta walk in their boots.”  
”What makes ya think I'm not?! I liked the little guy! Sure, he was queer, but he was alright.”  
”Is,” Záhovar said absently.  
”Huh?”  
”Is. He is not dead yet.”  
”He's right though,” Praktash said. ”Kaelun, I mean. That witch takes everythin'. T'was his sayin', an' he was right. She's takin' everyone from me. Hîsht, 'Zat, my brother... How long before she takes you too?!”  
”Záhovar's beaten her twice now,” Sulmurz pointed out. ”That witch ain't got nothin' on our Officer! What?” he added when Záhovar gave him a blank look.   
”He is not dead yet,” Záhovar repeated. ”Do not grieve prematurely.”  
”'Zat...” Praktash whispered and buried his face in Graznikh's thighs. He looked up again once he'd regained control of his voice. ”I've got a question.”  
”Ask,” Záhovar said gently.  
”Has there been any word..? Of him, I mean..?”  
Záhovar shook her head with a grim expression. ”When I find him...” She fell silent as Graznikh held up a hand. He laid down beside Praktash and made him rest his head on his shoulder instead.   
”I've got a few words for ya. From him, back afore he left. D'ya want the others to leave, or..?”  
Praktash gave Sulmurz a steady glare.  
”What happens in here stays in here,” Sulmurz assured him. ”I'm no snitch.”  
Praktash nodded reluctantly. ”They can stay. I don't care.”  
  
  
”Margzat came clean to me before he left,” Graznikh began while staring at the ceiling. ”You were never thrown outta Blog Shakâmb; he freed ya. Remember him telling ya he was the witch's door guard? He heard the screams and other sounds from inside and thought it'd drive him mad. He saw the two o' ya from time to time, used ya too when the witch was generous. He told me he wanted you for his own, so he decided to do something about it. At some point, the witch went away. She brought Kaelun along but left you behind. Guess you weren't as complacent as him, so she didn't trust ya to behave. Margzat and the other guards were told to feed ya every now and then, but the others tried to take advantage already the first night and Margzat ended up killing 'em. Then he bundled ya up. You were still under heavy compulsion and fought back, so he knocked ya out and carried ya into the streets, hid ya in some backalley and went back in to clean up the mess. He meant to come back but when he returned, you were already gone.  
When the witch returned he claimed one of the others had dragged ya out and that he'd killed them all as punishment. As good a sorcerer as she is, she can't read people's minds and for some reason she never bothered torturing him to find out the truth. She just let go, but not before sending Margzat to the Trench. Years later he spots ya in Morgai when I got ya outta that dungeon. He thought he'd get himself elevated so he sent word to her about it, but then Záhovar got to ya before he could intervene. He was told to keep an eye on ya; that's why he walked into your shop that one night, to get a closer look. And he got in good with me so that I'd have him in mind for any outside operation Záhovar might get involved with. And I did, sure enough.”  
He spat. ”Got manipulated real good. And off we went with a traitor in our midst. But then you turned out to be a whole different kinda guy than what he'd expected. He just couldn't keep things separated; you were too good, too sweet. So in the end he crushed for ya just as hard as I did. But he couldn't get away, the witch had him stringed up well and good.”  
  
”I should have pressed him harder,” Záhovar murmured. ”Not allowed him to wander off once he had agreed to the collar. Damn him, I could have prevented it all!”  
”I'd wager he didn't know,” Sulmurz said. ”I mean, it's kinda queer, eh? A Top One puttin' her neck on the line for us grunts.” He swallowed as she glared at him. ”I-I mean... I didn't..!” He swallowed again as she patted his cheek without a word. ”Right...”  
  
Graznikh shrugged and continued. ”So he does what he first set out to do and hands you over to the witch. He thought he could just lie to himself, that what he did never happened or that you deserved the whole thing, but then Záhovar... Well...” He fell silent with a scowl.  
Praktash picked up on his reluctance. ”What? What did you do?” He looked at the High Officer.   
Záhovar remained silent at first.  
”What the _fuck_ did you do?”  
She looked down. ”I made him watch.”  
”Watch what? Nar...” Praktash's eyes widened as he realised what she meant. ”Nar, there was no one in that room, no one! It was fuckin' _empty_!!”  
”There was no need to enter,” Záhovar said. ”On the far wall opposite the door there was a glass screen hidden by an illusion that made it look identical to the wall surrounding it, at least from the inside. A simple thing; had you touched it, your hand would have passed through it.”  
Praktash stared at the intricate carpet with a haunted expression. ”I heard him roar... I _heard_ him. An' I thought it was my mind makin' things up..! For fuck's sake, I _heard_ him!” Then his eyes grew black and he looked at Záhovar with pure, unbridled hate. ”An' did you enjoy it? Did you like watchin' me gettin' bred by that monster? Tickled real nicely down there, didn't it? Did he fuck ya up against the glass while I screamed an'-”  
”For fuck's sake, Praktash!” Graznikh growled.  
”Yeah, you defend her! It's what you do, isn't it? Defend your master like a good little snaga!”  
”She risked her life to get ya outta there! We all did!”  
”Yeah, 'cause I was helped so bloody much by her _watchin'_ as I got this shit inside o' me!!” Praktash roared and pointed at his bloated belly. Then he shot up. ”You know what? I'm done with ya! All o' ya! I've had enough of Top Ones an' mindfucks! If it wasn't for you, I'd still be in my cozy little crib without a care in the world!”  
”Or you'd be in that dungeon,” Graznikh growled. ”He was looking for ya, remember? _She_ was looking!”  
”Well that woulda been better!” Praktash spat. ”At least back there, I knew what was goin' on! Not like here where everyone keeps draggin' me back an' forth across half the fuckin' world an' turn traitor in the end! An' I'd still have my brother!” His face contorted. ”Fuck, Kaelun... I'm so sorry..!”  
”So you would rather condemn your brother to a fate worse than death, only because you would share in that fate? That is selfish!” Záhovar snapped.  
”Well, you're a mind-messin' Orc-whore! An' it's over between us!” Praktash reached for the iron collar around his neck and screamed in agony as he tried to unlock it and was caught by the enchantment laid upon it. He fell to the floor, cramping and screaming, still clutching the collar. Graznikh eventually managed to pry his hands off it and the screaming stopped. Praktash lay like dead, staring at nothing. _I deserve it all._  
”Was this truly a wise thing to bring up now, of all times?” Záhovar asked Graznikh sternly.  
”I had to tell him at some point.”  
”That is no excuse! You could have waited until the shock of what he has already gone through had faded a little.”  
”Keep talkin' over my head as if I'm not here,” Praktash whispered from the floor. ”Who cares what Khayri wants?”  
”That's not your name,” Graznikh said.  
”It may as well be. She takes everythin'; why not my name too?”  
”What, you're gonna walk right back to Blog Shakâmb now? After all you've done to stay away?”  
”It's pointless. Pointless to try to run.”  
”This won't happen again,” Graznikh growled. ”I'll make fucking sure of it!”  
Praktash looked at him with the most horrible smile Graznikh had ever seen on his face. ”An' how would you stop her, little snaga? She'd flick you aside with a finger. I know. I've tried. Didn't work the first time, an' not the hundredth either. Every time the compulsion broke I tried to kill her, all in vain. She just laughed and flicked me aside. Go kill yourself tryin' to protect me. It'll end the same way.” He closed his eyes, still smiling. ”Just kill me now. Let me go to my brother.”  
  
Graznikh gave Záhovar a helpless look when Praktash ignored any further attempts at communicating.  
”Then let us do as you wish,” Záhovar said quietly. ”We will take you to your brother.” She helped Graznikh carry him into the room where Kaelun laid and tucked them both in. Once they were back in the main room, Graznikh pulled her roughly into his arms.  
”I'mma go crazy for real soon,” he murmured. ”I can't lose him too, not now, not when things were going so well for us!”  
”This has been traumatic for us all,” Záhovar replied softly. Her face was calm but the bond told a different story.  
”If that bloody kid hadn't-”  
”Hey, don't you go blaming Kaelun now,” Sulmurz interrupted. ”None o' this is his fault.”  
”I agree,” Záhovar said. ”Place the blame where such is deserved.”  
Graznikh leered a little. ”I _will_ fistfuck that witch up the arse with her own ovaries. One sweet night.”  
”Hold onto that thought,” Záhovar whispered. ”I will enjoy watching her bleed out from it.” She released Graznikh and turned to Sulmurz. ”You have been quiet. How do you fare through all this?”  
Sulmurz shrugged. ”Well, I'm not bloody happy if 'at's what ya mean. Like I said, I liked the kid. He was the only one who really cared 'bout those stupid games o' mine.”  
”That's not true,” Graznikh said. ”I like 'em well enough, and you always get a gathering at every alehouse ya step into.”  
”It's not the same!” Sulmurz snarled before calming down and shaking his head. ”'S gonna be empty without him.”  
”He still breathes,” Záhovar insisted.  
”Oh, come on!” Sulmurz exclaimed. ”I've seen enough guys turn veggie after a bad draught or a blow to the head! If he comes around he might as well be blind, or a droolin' lackwit! There's no tellin' what he'll end up like. For all we know he might as well be awake already, only he can't tell us 'bout it.”  
The look of helplessness in Záhovar's eyes made Graznikh feel like someone had just wrung his heart dry. ”Âmbal,” he whispered as she collapsed against his shoulder. ”I know this isn't what ya planned.” Her only answer was a soft sob. ”And I know this isn't what you wanna hear,” he continued, ”but if he doesn't come around soon... Or if it is the way Sulmurz says, then... A knife might be the only mercy left.”  
”No!” she whimpered. ”I promised him! I promised...”  
  
  
Once Praktash heard the door close, he could no longer hold the tears back. He rolled over and hugged Kaelun's warm but lifeless body and buried his face in his hair for comfort.  
”Please,” he sobbed. ”Please don't leave me... Don't ditch me like 'Zat did! I can't deal with this, I can't bloody survive losin' you too... 'Zat, you fuckin' bastard..!”  
”Who's 'Zat?”  
When Praktash heard the faint whisper, he froze and could only stare for a moment. Then he screamed out loud and threw himself on top of Kaelun. The willowy Uruk began to sweat profusely as he willed his arms up and around his brother's waist. Praktash cried like a child and begged for him not to go again, not to leave him alone. After a while he noticed how exerted Kaelun seemed and quickly rolled off him. ”I'm sorry! Skai, I'm so sorry!”  
”Don't be,” Kaelun whispered. He frowned a little and swallowed hard, resting a little before meeting Praktash's eyes again. ”Who's 'Zat?”  
Praktash began to rub the tears away. ”An idiot.” He eyed him. ”But you're alive! I gotta-”  
Kaelun shook his head. ”Shh, not now. Why're you so upset?”  
”'Cause...” Praktash looked away and swallowed hard. ”'Cause I wanna hate him... 'Cause he's behind all this shit... but I can't!” He gave Kaelun a helpless look and Kaelun lifted his arms a little.  
”Come.”  
Praktash snuggled up to him again. He could no longer hold back as he drank in Kaelun's scent and cried silently while his weak brother gently patted his back.  
”Cry, brother,” Kaelun whispered. ”It's good to cry sometimes.”  
”But I don't wanna,” Praktash wailed. ”I've had enough of cryin' over others!”  
”Sometimes, what you wanna an' what you need're different things.” He opened his eyes when Praktash's sobs abated. ”Tell me about him.”  
Praktash winced. ”He's a selfish, stuck-up bastard who-”  
”Not that,” Kaelun interrupted. ”I wanna hear 'bout the 'Zat you knew. There must've been somethin' you liked 'bout him, somethin' good, or you wouldn't be like this.”  
Praktash lay silent for a while, gathering his thoughts before answering. He had no wish to bring those memories up, not after what he had just learned about the real Margzat. About how he had led him along, all for his own gains. But Kaelun had asked and Khayri could not refuse him.  
”He always made me look the fool, right from the start. First time we met, he tried to flirt an' I put a knife to his throat. He was so _Officery,_ y'know? Acted so cocksure, like he owned everythin' an' everyone would jump if he told 'em to. Never liked those types. But then...” He smiled through the tears. ”Then he turned out to be not at all like that.”  
”What was he like?”  
”He was... He was fine. Solid. Never lost his temper for stupid little things or got pissed 'cause of a joke. Always gave back as good as he got though.” Praktash laughed quietly. ”He pissed me off _so_ many times, I could yell at him to fuck off to the Moon an' back, an' then he'd just haul me in with a grin an' a wink an' I'd be hooked like a Nûrnen shark. Y'know, the kinda look that makes your knees grow weak an' your dick hard.”  
”Can't say I do,” Kaelun replied with a weak smile. ”But it sounds very nice.”  
Praktash returned his smile. ”Yeah, it is.” Then he gave him a mischievous glance. ”Wanna know where we first kissed?”  
”Tell me.”  
”Trainin' grounds.”  
”No!”  
”Yeah!”  
”But... You told me, long ago, that..?”  
”Bootcamp fantasies, yeah.” Praktash started giggling and crying at the same time. ”He talked me into sparrin', an' I was too scared to back out. An' when he disarmed me, he pushed me up 'gainst the rock wall in front o' the whole crowd an' just had his way with me.” He blushed as Kaelun purred softly. Then he winced in pain. ”An' I still want that... Fuck you 'Zat, how fuckin' COULD YOU?!” He bellowed into the mattress until his throat hurt and when he fell silent there was a knock on the door.  
”Buddy? You okay in there?”  
”Nar,” Praktash replied bitterly. ”Fuck off!”  
Kaelun frowned a little. ”You angry with him too?”  
Praktash nodded. ”They were in on it the whole time! Záhovar just stood there an' _watched_ while I was trapped with the Beast, didn't lift a bloody finger to help me!”  
”If she didn't, how're we here?”  
Praktash had no answer to that, but his grief-stricken mind refused to pardon those he had judged guilty. _Not yet._   
  
”'Zat...” Kaelun whispered. ”What'd he look like?”  
”I already told ya,” came the muffled reply. ”Red eyes, black hair, skin almost black but not quite...” He snorted quietly. ”He had a scar across his right eye, an' I gave him another beneath it. An' he was big, not just his cock but all of him. Like-”  
”Like an Olog,” Kaelun whispered.  
Praktash looked up. ”Yeah. How d'you know?”  
”I've seen him. He set you free.”  
”...What?”  
”That first time,” Kaelun continued, eyes widening as he remembered. ”He told me, down in the dungeon before she claimed him. Before she sent him to fetch ya back. He told me he killed the other guards an' set ya free. I thought... I thought he'd killed you too, only he used another word for it!”  
Praktash focused on keeping his breathing calm as the storm inside his chest threatened to break free again. ”Tell me somethin' I don't know.”  
”He never told her. She _thought_ you were dead, but then the Ladyship, the _Worship_ , had you an' she saw... knew. So she caught him, made him tell. Made him obey.” He looked away. ”In the end, they all do.”  
Praktash could not take any more; there were too many conflicting tales. He resorted to howling his pain and grief against his brother's shoulder until he had no more tears to shed. For a long while after, they both slept fitfully.  
Kaelun was already awake when Praktash woke up. ”Slept well?”  
”Nar,” Praktash whispered in reply. ”Not sure I'll ever sleep 'well' again.”  
”Better than me, I'm sure.”  
”Don't,” Praktash growled. ”I'm already doin' my best not to punch ya for tryin' to ditch me, so just don't!”  
Kaelun gave him a wary glance before looking away. ”Alright.”  
”Nar... Brother, I didn't-”  
”It doesn't matter,” Kaelun whispered. Then he said, a little louder: ”I'm hungry.”  
Praktash wanted to say more, but decided against it. ”I'll go get ya some. Don't... Don't do anythin' stupid while I'm gone, alright?”  
Kaelun kept staring at the wall with a sullen expression for a while before answering: ”Alright.” Then he added: ”not before breakfast, at any rate.”  
Praktash was about to stand, but hesitated when he heard his brother's words. ”Were you jokin' just now?”  
Kaelun chuckled mirthlessly. ”I don't know.”  
”...Fine. I'll get ya breakfast.”   
  


Outside in the common room, Sulmurz was busy fletching new arrows when Praktash entered. He gave him a quizzical glance. ”Back 'mong the living, are ya?”  
Praktash nodded. ”We both are.” He was not in the mood for small talk or insults and ignored Sulmurz's brief grin, heading instead for the door after throwing on a Lug-snaga robe. Praktash did not like the cumbersome robe, but it would have to do since he had no armour.  
The kitchens where the finer food was prepared lay three levels down in the main Tower. Praktash kept a low profile as he descended the stairs, bowing out of the way of High and Low Officers of varying rank and nodding to the other Lug-snaga, all of whom were blindfolded Men and Women with sewn lips. The combination of collar and lip piercings had made them recognise him as one of their own when he first entered Záhovar's service; how they had done so when blindfolded was beyond him, but they still unnerved him and usually he avoided them. Now he found their subdued demeanor strangely comforting. He asked around until he found two who had no commands to follow and ordered them to help him carry the Lug-durbatar's food back to her quarters. Lug-snaga, he had found, had a hierarchy of their own; those who served a particular High Officer and carried their signet on their collars were considered better than those who served the Tower in general and among the former, the rank of the Officer they served determined their own rank. Graznikh had spoken true when he said that high-ranking Lug-snaga could outrank low-ranking High Officers; the Tower's internal hierarchy was an intricate web of both official and inofficial threads that linked servants and masters both high and low.  
Tonight's supper was some kind of stew, filled with odd plants that Praktash did not recognise. Normally, Lug-snaga ate the same bland gruel as the rest of the grunts and from what Praktash had been able to discern from the Lug-snaga gossip, Záhovar alone allowed her servants to eat the same food as she did. Now he took a few bowls of stew, placed them on trays along with some slices of cured meat and bisquits and headed back to the High Officers' quarters with his Lug-snaga colleagues in tow.

Meanwhile, Sulmurz headed for the Lug-snaga bedroom once Praktash had vanished down the stairs. He gave the door a quiet rap with a knuckle. ”Hey, cub?”  
Kaelun turned away from the wall and watched him with weary eyes.  
”Heard ya were back among us,” he continued with a little grin as he sat down on a chest.  
”I'm not sure that I am,” Kaelun replied quietly.  
”Sure ya are,” Sulmurz insisted. ”I knew ya wouldn't rid me o' my best gamin' partner.”  
”I'm not the best,” Kaelun protested weakly. ”I'm not even good. I think too much, I don't get the rules half the time, I ask too many questions-”  
”So? That's half the fun!”  
”You always get angry with me.”  
”Nar, I get annoyed. 'At's different. Besides, who's gonna keep yer brother away from me if ya go?” He cocked his head as Kaelun looked away. ”Look; I didn't come here to chat 'bout me. How ya doin'?”  
Kaelun shrugged. ”I don't know.”  
”Well ya musta known when ya dunked yer head in the drug-bag. If I'd done something like that, I woulda had yer brother's mace up my arse for messin' his shit up afore I could even off myself.” A little laugh escaped Kaelun's mouth before he could stop it and Sulmurz's grin widened. ”An' our Ladyship? She looked like she was about to follow ya shortly, thanks for the service, leave yellow flowers on the tomb.” Then he grew serious. ”Don't do shit like this, cub. It won't solve anything, it'll just leave the shitty stuff for others to deal with.”  
”But I'm so scared!” Kaelun exclaimed and began to sob.  
”Aye, I get that. _We_ get that. But ye're not alone anymore. Sure, ya can be selfish if ya want, and the other side might be a pretty painting, but what if that's just an illusion too? Or what if, if ya fight through this shitty time, you'll come out tougher in the end?”  
”How? How do I fight somethin' I can't even see?!”  
”By hangin' in there! Look cub; I know ye're not stupid. I know ya know this here's real, that we are, all o' us. This isn't one o' the witch's tricks.”  
”But that's why I wanted to go!”  
”I know that. Yer brother told us some while ya were out. But if things're so good, aren't they worth fightin' for? Isn't this worth holdin' on to? Or are all the risks Záhovar took, that we took, all for nothin'?”  
Kaelun gave him a hopeless look. ”But... I can't fight! I don't know how an' I'm so scared! I'm not Praktash, I can't be like him!”  
”No one's askin' ya to,” Sulmurz said. ”Me, I like ya better than him, but ya already know that, right? And what's this 'bout ya not bein' able to fight? I bloody saw ya tear a bunch o' morons to pieces with a shout! If that's not fightin', I dunno what is!”  
Kaelun's breath hitched a few times, but he was no longer crying. After some hesitation, Sulmurz moved closer. Kaelun gave him room to sit and after a moment he sat up and wrapped an arm around his chest and shoulders from behind. Sulmurz forced himself not to tense up at the intimate move but as usual, Kaelun made no further advances. He only held him close briefly and then let go to wipe his tearwet face.  
”...Feelin' better?” he asked after a while.  
”A little,” Kaelun replied. ”I'm still hungry.”  
”I'd wager yer brother'll be back any time now.” Sulmurz threw a glance at the door. ”I'mma get back to my fletchin'. Just lemme know if, uhh...”  
”Yeah,” Kaelun said with a nod. ”I'll rest some more.” He watched Sulmurz's back as the yellow-eyed Orc left.  
  
  
Kaelun sat on the bed when Praktash returned with the trays, arms wrapped around his knees and his heavy brow furrowed by a deep, thoughtful frown. He looked up as Praktash sat down beside him. ”Brother?”  
”Yeah?”  
”Can I ask ya somethin'?”  
”You just did,” Praktash replied with a half-hearted grin that Kaelun answered by rolling his eyes a little.  
”Be serious. Why 'Praktash'?”  
Praktash frowned. ”Whaddya mean?”  
”Why not 'Khayri'? Why change it?”  
Praktash winced. ”My name's not Khayri, it never was. It doesn't even mean anythin', it's just a nonsense word the witch came up with. Y'know how she wanted us to forget that there ever was somethin' beyond her lair? Khayri is... what I was in there. But I'm not that anymore, so I took a new name when I got out, one that fits me better.” He met Kaelun's wondering eyes. ”Why? Don'tcha like it?”  
”I don't know.” Kaelun frowned and the old panic began to creep into his eyes. ”There was always _us,_ that's what we were. Kaelun and Khayri, together! If you were Khayri back then but not now... Then I'm still alone. And I'm not _there_ , so... What does that make me?” His voice broke a little as he said the last words and he melted into Praktash's arms as he embraced him.  
”You can be whatever you wanna be,” Praktash murmured. ”You're free now, brother, you call the shots.”  
”But I don't _know!”_ Kaelun exclaimed, voice breaking. Then he took a deep breath and regained control once more. ”Don't you see? I was ready to go! Everything felt so good, so _real,_ I wanted it to end like that!” He closed his eyes. ”But it didn't work. An' now... Now I don't know what to do.”  
Praktash grinned a little. ”Maybe it did.”  
Kaelun looked up. ”What d'you mean?”  
”Maybe it _did_ end. Maybe 'Kaelun' was somethin' the witch made up, just like 'Khayri'. But he wasn't _you._ Khayri died in the streets o' Blog Shakâmb, an' Kaelun... You killed him just now. 'Course that'd be confusin'.”

Kaelun stared at him. ”But... Who am I then?”  
”I think that's a question only you can answer, big brother,” Praktash replied. Kaelun shifted into a more comfortable position and thought for a while. When he looked up again, there was a new kind of confidence in his eyes.  
”You're right, little brother. Kaelun's dead. I don't know who I am, but... I'll find out.” He returned Praktash's happy grin with a mischievous look. ”Perhaps this?”  
Praktash stared in astonishment as not-Kaelun reached for the Unseen and drew a hand over the blanket. Static sparks lit up the darkness, but instead of fading immediately they clung to his palm like little strands of light, arcing back and forth between his hand and the blanket. Then he closed it and they disappeared as quickly as they had formed.  
”How..?” Praktash breathed.  
”I dont really know. Can't remember when it began or how it happened. It's just a little somethin' I used to pass the time with whenever she was away.” Not-Kaelun frowned. ”She didn't know. She still doesn't, none of 'em do. Only you an'... Maybe our Ladyship. I'm scared of what'll happen if they know.”  
”Záhovar's right,” Praktash whispered. ”You're an Uruk dushatâr in the makin', aren'tcha?”  
His now nameless brother only smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that marks the end of my hiatus. Sneaky Uruks... and Officers. 
> 
> Bit of a memory-freshener: Agannâlô/the Black Hand is the same guy who caught Whindaër and brought her to Lugburz. Graznikh doesn't know this as he escaped and never got close enough to the search team to get a good look at him. He may have caught his scent at the time, but that was many years ago so he doesn't remember.
> 
> Dushatâr - sorcerer  
> Dúrauk - general


End file.
